PLUTARCH'S 


ESSAYS. 


WITH 


A  PREFACE  BY 

THE  REV.  ANDREW  P.  PEABODY,  D.D., 

AND 

AN  INTRODUCTION  BY 
RALPH  WALDO  EMERSON,  LL.D. 


TROY,  N.  Y. 


NIMS  AND  KNIGHT. 


boston  college  ubrak. 

CHESTNUT  HILL,  MASH- 


PAt3T4'- 

As  P3 

Copyright^  1881^ 

By  Little,  Brown,  and  Company. 


i 


2117 


University  Press:  John  Wilson  &  Son, 
‘  Cambridge, 


PREFACE. 


We  learn  more  about  Plutarch  from  his  own  writings  than 
from  all  other  sources ;  and  all  that  he  says  about  himself  seems 
so  frank  and  genuine  as  to  conciliate  belief,  and  at  the  same 
time  respect  and  sympathy.  He  may  not  have  been  a  marked 
man  ;  there  may  have  been  many  such  men ;  but  if  there  were, 
they  have  left  no  sign.  We  know  not  his  like  in  all  antiquity. 
He  reminds  us  of  the  English  or  American  country-gentleman, 
of  superior  claims  on  the  score  of  birth  and  fortune,  culture  and 
moral  worth,  living  at  an  easy  distance  from  some  provincial 
capital  or  university  town,  while  so  far  from  the  metropolis  as 
to  make  a  visit  there  one  of  the  most  important  events  of  his  life, 
trusted  and  beloved  by  his  neighbors,  taking  interest  as  a  citizen 
and  an  ofBce-bearer  in  local  concerns  however  small,  maintain¬ 
ing  a  generous  domestic  establishment,  and  exercising  a  liberal, 
yet  sober  hospitality.  He  would  have  been  an  eminent  man 
had  he  lived  in  Rome,  and  he  s.eems  to  have  been  received  there 
with  distinguished  honor ;  but  a  single  somewhat  prolonged 
sojourn  in  the  imperial  city,  whither  he  went  on  public  business 
for  his  native  Chgeroneia,  appears  to  have  been  his  only  opportu¬ 
nity  for  extended  intercourse  with  either  scholars,  philosophers, 
or  statesmen.  Athens,  where  he  was  educated,  and  Delphi, 
where  he  served  as  priest  of  Apollo  —  his  principal  sacerdotal 
duty  being  that  of  entertaining  strangers  at  official  banquets  — 
were  his  centres  of  intelligence  and  influence  ;  and  in  the  best 
society  of  both  these  cities  he  evidently  held  a  chief,  probably 
the  chief,  place. 


IV 


PREFACE. 


We  know  of  no  writer,  ancient  or  modern,  who  seems  so  in¬ 
stinctively  ethical  as  Plutarch.  Though  the  title,  “  Moralia,” 
under  which  his  miscellaneous  writings  have  been  grouped, 
seems  inapplicable  to  the  subjects  of  some  of  them,  it  belongs 
pre-eminently  to  the  pervading  tone  and  spirit  of  them  all, 
and  to  the  “  Lives  ”  as  well.  He  cannot  help  viewing  persons, 
objects,  and  events  in  their  moral  aspects  and  relations.  He  can 
think  of  a  character  only  as  an  example,  and  of  acts  only  as 
expressions  of  character.  He  can  hardly  be  said  to  have  be¬ 
longed  to  either  of  the  great  schools  of  philosophy.  Educated 
a  Peripatetic,  and,  with  those  of  his  school,  holding  at  their  full 
worth  the  constituent  elements  of  a  prosperous  life,  he  did  not, 
like  them,  degrade  each  separate  virtue  into  the  middle  term 
between  two  vicious  extremes.  While  an  ardent  admirer  of 
Plato,  he  was  at  a  heaven-wide  remove  from  the  scepticism  of 
the  later  Platonists  of  the  New  Academy.  His  high  and  un¬ 
swerving  standard  of  right  brought  him  into  near  kindred  with 
the  Stoics  ;  but  there  was  in  him  nothing  of  their  asceticism 
and  their  professed  contempt  for  outward  goods.  He  probably 
would  have  defined  himself  as  an  Eclectic,  and,  except  from  the 
Epicureans,  whom  he  abhorred,  he  would  have  been  a  willing 
borrower  from  every  then  extant  school.  His  main  characteris¬ 
tics  as  an  ethical  writer  are  inflexibility  of  principle,  a  settled 
conviction  as  to  the  rightfulness  and  wrongfulness  of  specific 
acts,  emphatic  disapproval  of  all  that  is  base  and  vile,  and  a 
candid  and  hopeful  treatment  of  evil  itself,  when  it  has  any 
semblance,  or  admixture,  or  promise  of  good. 

Without  boasting  or  self-praise,  he  gives  us  a  very  exalted 
idea  of  his  own  personal  excellence.  So  far  as  becomes  into  con¬ 
tact  with  evil,  it  is  manifestly  contact  without  commingling.  In 
the  dialogue  form  in  which  many  of  his  writings  are  cast,  his 
interlocutors  sometimes  talk  in  a  way  in  which  a  moralist  of  the 
nineteenth  century  would  not  make  them  talk ;  but  we  have  yet 
to  find  a  single  instance  in  which  he  sanctions,  defends,  or  ex¬ 
tenuates  immorality  of  any  kind,  or  in  which,  if  there  be  a  dis¬ 
cussion,  the  casting  vote  represented  by  his  voice  is  not  on  the 
side  of  truth  and  right. 


PREFACE. 


V 


While  the  contents  of  this  volume  have  all  been  selected 
for  qualities  which  can  hardly  fail  to  make  them  interesting, 
instructive,  and  edifying,  there  are  two  pieces,  in  their  respec¬ 
tive  veins  unsurpassed,  if  not  unequalled.  One  is  that  entitled 
“  Concerning  such  whom  God  is  slow  to  punish,”  or,  as  it  might 
be  better  named,  “  On  the  Delay  of  the  Divine  Retribution.” 
If,  on  this  profound  and  perplexing  theme,  Plutarch  has  omit¬ 
ted  any  thing  that  can  be  wisely  said,  we  doubt  whether  any 
one  else  has  said  it.  De  Maistre  made  a  very  elaborate  para¬ 
phrase  of  this  Dialogue,  without  adding  to  it  a  single  argument 
or  thought  of  any  moment.  The  other  piece  to  which  we  refer 
is  Plutarch’s  “  Consolatory  Letter  to  his  Wife,”  on  the  death 
of  a  child  during  his  absence  from  home.  The  gentleness  and 
sweetness  of  this  letter,  the  resignation  to  the  kindly  ordering 
of  Providence,  and  the  confident  hope  of  immortality,  together 
with  the  tokens  of  the  purest  and  closest  domestic  affection  that 
give  tone  to  every  sentence,  render  it  almost  Christian,  and  iiidi 
cate  in  the  writer  a  soul  which  would  have  found  itself  in  entire 
harmony  with  the  new  faith,  as  uttered  in  the  teachings  and  in¬ 
carnate  in  the  life  of  its  Founder. 


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INTRODUCTION. 


(Reprinted  from  Plutarch’s  Morals,  5  vols.) 


It  is  remarkable  that  of  an  author  so  familiar  as  Plutarch,  not 
only  to  scholars,  but  to  all  reading  men,  and  whose  history  is  so 
easily  gathered  from  his  works,  no  accurate  memoir  of  his  life, 
not  even  the  dates  of  his  birth  and  death,  should  have  come  down 
to  us.  Strange  that  the  writer  of  so  many  illustrious  biographies 
should  wait  so  long  for  his  own.  It  is  agreed  that  he  was  born 
about  the  year  50  a.  D.  He  has  been  represented  as  having 
been  the  tutor  of  the  Emperor  Trajan,  as  dedicating  one  of  his 
books  to  him,  as  living  long  in  Rome  in  great  esteem,  as  having 
received  from  Trajan  the  consular  dignity,  and  as  having  been 
appointed  by  him  the  governor  of  Greece.  He  was  a  man  whose 
real  superiority  had  no  need  of  these  flatteries.  Meantime,  the 
simple  truth  is,  that  he  was  not  the  tutor  of  Trajan,  that  he 
dedicated  no  book  to  him,  was  not  consul  in  Rome,  nor  governor 
of  Greece ;  appears  never  to  have  been  in  Rome  but  on  two  occa¬ 
sions,  and  then  on  business  of  the  people  of  his  native  city, 
Chaeronsea ;  and  though  he  found  or  made  friends  at  Rome,  and 
read  lectures  to  some  friends  or  scholars,  he  did  not  know  or 
learn  the  Latin  language  there ;  with  one  or  two  doubtful  excep¬ 
tions,  never  quotes  a  Latin  book  ;  and  though  the  contemporary 
in  his  youth,  or  in  his  old  age,  of  Persius,  Juvenal,  Lucan,  and 
Seneca,  of  Quintilian,  Martial,  Tacitus,  Suetonius,  Pliny  the  Elder, 
and  the  Younger,  he  does  not  cite  them,  and  in  return  his  name 
is  never  mentioned  by  any  Roman  writer.  It  would  seem  that  the 
community  of  letters  and  of  personal  news  was  even  more  rare 
at  that  day  than  the  want  of  printing,  of  railroads  and  telegraphs, 
would  suggest  to  us. 

But  tliis  neglect  by  his  contemporaries  has  been  compensated 
by  an  immense  popularity  in  modern  nations.  Whilst  liis  books 
were  never  known  to  the  world  in  their  own  Greek  tongue,  it  is 


Vlll 


I 


INTRODUCTION. 


curious  that  the  Lives  ”  were  translated  and  printed  in  Latin, 
thence  into  Italian,  French,  and  English,  more  than  a  century 
before  the  original  ‘‘Works”  were  yet  printed.  For  whilst  the 
“  Lives  ”  were  translated  in  Rome  in  1471,  and  the  “  Morals,” 
part  by  part,  soon  after,  the  first  printed  edition  of  the  Greek 
“  Works”  did  not  appear  until  1572.  Hardly  current  in  his 
own  Greek,  these  found  learned  interpreters  in  the  scholars  of 
Germany,  Spain,  and  Italy.  In  France,  in  the  middle  of  the 
most  turbulent  civil  wars,  Amyot’s  translation  awakened  general 
attention.  His  genial  version  of  the  “  Lives  ”  in  1559,  of  the 
“  Morals  ”  in  1572,  had-  signal  success.  King  Henry  IV.  wrote 
to  his  wife,  Marie  de  Medicis :  “  Vive  Dieu.  As  God  liveth,  you 
could  not  have  sent  me  any  thing  which  could  be  more  agreeable 
than  the  news  of  the  pleasure  you  have  taken  in  this  reading. 
Plutarch  always  delights  me  with  a  fresh  novelty.  To  love  him 
is  to  love  me  ;  for  he  has  been  long  time  the  instructor  of  my 
youth.  My  good  mother,  to  whom  I  owe  all,  and  who  would 
not  wish,  she  said,  to  see  her  son  an  illustrious  dunce,  put  this 
book  into  my  hands  almost  when  I  was  a  child  at  the  breast.  It 
has  been  like  my  conscience,  and  has  whispered  in  my  ear  many 
good  suggestions  and  maxims  for  my  conduct,  and  the  govern¬ 
ment  of  my  affairs.”  Still  earlier,  Rabelais  cites  him  with  due 
respect.  Montaigne,  in  1589,  says :  “  We  dunces  had  been  lost, 
had  not  this  book  raised  us  out  of  the  dirt.  By  this  favor  of  his 
we  dare  now  speak  and  write.  The  ladies  are  able  to  read  to 
schoolmasters.  ’Tis  our  breviary.”  Montesquieu  drew  from  him 
his  definition  of  law,  and,  in  his  Pensees^  declares,  “  I  am  always 
charmed  with  Plutarch ;  in  his  writings  are  circumstances 
attached  to  persons,  which  give  great  pleasure ;  ”  and  adds 
examples.  Saint  Evremond  read  Plutarch  to  the  great  Cond^ 
under  a  tent.  Rollin,  so  long  the  historian  of  antiquity  for 
France,  drew  unhesitatingly  his  history  from  him.  Voltaire 
honored  him,  and  Rousseau  acknowledged  him  as  his  master. 
In  England,  Sir  Thomas  North  translated  the  “  Lives”  in  1579, 
and  Holland  the  “  Morals  ”  in  1603,  in  time  to  be  used  by  Shak- 
speare  in  his  plays,  and  read  by  Bacon,  Dryden,  and  Cud  worth. 

Then,  recently,  there  has  been  a  remarkable  revival,  in  France, 
in  the  taste  for  Plutarch  and  his  contemporaries,  led,  we  may 
say,  by  the  eminent  critic  Saint-Beuve.  M.  Octave  Grdard,  in  a 
critical  work  on  the  “  Morals,”  has  carefully  corrected  the  popular 


INTRODUCTION. 


IX 


legends,  and  constructed  from  the  works  of  Plutarch  himself  his 
true  biography.  M.  Leveque  has  given  an  exposition  of  his 
moral  philosophy,  under  the  title  of  A  Physician  of  the  Soul,” 
in  the  Revue  des  Deux  Mondes;  and  M.  C.  Martha,  chapters  on 
the  genius  of  Marcus  Aurelius,  of  Persius,  and  Lucretius,  in 
the  same  journal ;  whilst  M.  Fustel  de  Coulanges  has  explored 
from  its  roots  in  the  Aryan  race,  then  in  their  Greek  and 
Roman  descendants,  the  primeval  religion  of  the  household. 

Plutarch  occupies  a  unique  place  in  literature  as  an  encyclo¬ 
paedia  of  Greek  and  Roman  antiquity.  Whatever  is  eminent 
in  fact  or  in  fiction,  in  opinion,  in  character,  in  institutions,  in 
science  —  natural,  moral,  or  metaphysical,  or  in  memorable  say¬ 
ings,  drew  his  attention  and  came  to  his  pen  with  more  or  less 
fulness  of  record.  He  is,  among  prose-writers,  what  Chaucer  is 
among  English  poets,  a  repertory  for  those  who  want  the  story 
without  searching  for  it  at  first  hand,  —  a  compend  of  all 
accepted  traditions.  And  all  this  without  any  supreme  intellect¬ 
ual  gifts.  He  is  not  a  profound  mind ;  not  a  master  in  any 
science  ;  not  a  lawgiver,  like  Lycurgus  or  Solon  ;  not  a  metaphy¬ 
sician,  like  Parmenides,  Plato,  or  Aristotle ;  not  the  founder  of 
any  sect  or  community,  like  Pythagoras  or  Zeno  ;  not  a  naturalist, 
like  Pliny  or  Linnaeus  ;  not  a  leader  of  the  mind  of  a  genera¬ 
tion,  like  Plato  or  Goethe.  But  if  he  had  not  the  highest  powers, 
he  was  yet  a  man  of  rare  gifts.  He  had  that  universal  sympathy 
with  genius  which  makes  all  its  victories  his  own  ;  though  he 
never  used  verse,  he  had  many  qualities  of  the  poet  in  the  power 
of  his  imagination,  the  speed  of  his  mental  associations,  and  his 
sharp,  objective  eyes.  But  what  specially  marks  him,  he  is  a 
chief  example  of  the  illumination  of  the  intellect  by  the  force  of 
morals.  Tliough  the  most  amiable  of  boon-companions,  this 
generous  religion  gives  him  apergus  like  Goethe’s. 

Plutarch  was  well-born,  well-taught,  well-conditioned ;  a  self- 
respecting,  amiable  man,  who  knew  how  to  better  a  good  edu¬ 
cation  by  travels,  by  devotion  to  affairs  private  and  public ;  a 
master  of  ancient  culture,  he  read  books  with  a  just  criticism ; 
eminently  social,  he  was  a  king  in  his  own  house,  surrounded 
himself  with  select  friends,  and  knew  the  high  value  of  good 

conversation  ;  and  declares  in  a  letter  written  to  his  wife  that 

/ 

“  he  finds  scarcely  an  erasure,  as  in  a  book  well-written,  in  the 
happiness  of  his  life.” 


X 


INTRODUCTION. 


The  range  of  mind  makes  the  glad  writer.  The  reason  ^of 
Plutarch’s  vast  popularity  is  his  humanity.  A  man  of  society, 
of  affairs;  upright,  practical;  a  good  son,  husband,  father,  and 
friend, — he  has  a  taste  for  common  life,  and  knows  the  court,  the 
camp,  and  the  judgment-hall,  but  also  the  forge,  farm,  kitchen, 
and  cellar,  and  every  utensil  and  use,  and  with  a  wise  man’s  or 
a  poet’s  eye.  Thought  defends  him  from  any  degradation.  He 
does  not  lose  his  way,  for  the  attractions  are  from  within,  not 
from  without.  A  poet  in  verse  or  prose  must  have  a  sensuous 
eye,  but  an  intellectual  co-perception.  Plutarch’s  memory  is  full, 
and  his  horizon  wide.  .  Nothing  touches  man  but  he  feels  to  be 
his  ;  he  is  tolerant  even  of  vice,  if  he  finds  it  genial ;  enough  a 
man  of  the  world  to  give  even  the  devil  his  due,  and  would  have 
hugged  Robert  Burns,  when  he  cried, 

“  O  wad  ye  talc’  a  thought  and  mend  !  ” 

He  is  a  philosopher  with  philosophers,  a  naturalist  with  natural 
ists,  and  sufficiently  a  mathematician  to  leave  some  of  his  readers, 
now  and  then,  at  a  long  distance  behind  him,  or  respectfully 
skipping  to  the  next  chapter.  But  this  scholastic  omniscience  of 
our  author  engages  a  new  respect,  since  they  hope  he  understands 
his  own  diagram. 

He  perpetually  suggests  Montaigne,  who  was  the  best  reader  he 
has  ever  found,  though  Montaigne  excelled  his  master  in  the 
point  and  surprise  of  his  sentences.  Plutarch  had  a  religion 
which  MontaiQ:ne  wanted,  and  which  defends  him  from  wanton- 
ness ;  and  though  Plutarch  is  as  plain-spoken,  his  moral  senti¬ 
ment  is  always  pure.  What  better  praise  has  any  writer  received 
than  he  whom  Montaigne  finds  “frank  in  giving  things,  not 
words,”  dryly  adding,  “  it  vexes  me  that  he  is  so  exposed  to  the 
spoil  of  those  that  are  conversant  with  him.”  It  is  one  of  the 
felicities  of  literary  history,  the  tie  which  inseparably  couples  these 
two  names  across  fourteen  centuries.  Montaigne,  whilst  he  grasps 
Etienne  de  la  Boece  with  one  hand,  reaches  back  the  other  to 
Plutarch.  These  distant  friendships  charm  us,  and  honor  all  the 
parties,  and  make  the  best  example  of  the  universal  citizenship 
and  fraternity  of  the  human  mind. 

I  do  not  know  where  to  find  a  book  —  to  borrow  a  phrase  of 
♦  Ben  Jonson’s  —  “so  rammed  with  life,”  and  this  in  chapters 
chiefly  ethical,  which  are  so  prone  to  be  heavy  and  sentimental. 


INTRODUCTION. 


XI 


No  poet  could  illustrate  his  thought  with  more  novel  or  striking 
similes  or  happier  anecdotes.  His  style  is  realistic,  picturesque, 
and  varied ;  his  sharp  objective  eyes  seeing  every  thing  that 
moves,  shines,  or  threatens  in  nature  or  art,  or  thought  or 
dreams.  Indeed,  twilights,  shadows,  omens,  and  spectres  have 
a  charm  for  him.  He  believes  in  witchcraft  and  the  evil  eye,  in 
demons  and  ghosts,  —  but  prefers,  if  you  please,  to  talk  of  these 
in  the  morning.  His  vivacity  and  abundance  never  leave  him  to 
loiter  or  pound  on  an  incident.  I  admire  his  rapid  and  crowded 
style,  as  if  he  had  such  store  of  anecdotes  of  his  heroes  that  he 
is  forced  to  suppress  more  than  he  recounts,  in  order  to  keep  up 
with  the  hasting  history. 

His  surprising  merit  is  the  genial  facility  with  which  he  deals 
with  his  manifold  topics.  There  is  no  trace  of  labor  or  pain. 
He  gossips  of  heroes,  philosophers,  and  poets ;  of  virtues  and 
genius ;  of  love  and  fate  and  empires.  It  is  for  his  pleasure 
that  he  recites  all  that  is  best  in  his  reading :  he  prattles  history. 
But  he  is  no  courtier,  and  no  Boswell :  he  is  ever  manly,  far  from 
fawning,  and  would  be  welcome  to  the  sages  and  warriors  he 
reports,  as  one  having  a  native  right  to  admire  and  recount  these 
stirring  deeds  and  speeches.  I  find  him  a  better  teacher  of  rhetoric 
than  any  modern.  His  superstitions  are  poetic,  aspiring,  affirma¬ 
tive.  A  poet  might  rhyme  all  day  with  hints  drawn  from  Plutarch, 
page  on  page.  No  doubt,  this  superior  suggestion  for  the  modern 
reader  owes  much  'to  the  foreign  air,  the  Greek  wine,  the  religion 
and  history  of  antique  heroes.  Thebes,  Sparta,  Athens,  and 
Rome  charm  us  away  from  the  disgust  of  the  passing  hour.  But 
his  own  cheerfulness  and  rude  health  are  also  magnetic.  In  his 
immense  quotation  and  allusion,  we  quickly  cease  to  discriminate 
between  what  he  quotes  and  what  he  invents.  We  sail  on  his 
memory  into  the  ports  of  every  nation,  enter  into  every  private 
property,  and  do  not  stop  to  discriminate  owners,  but  give  him 
the  praise  of  all.  ’Tis  all  Plutarch,  bv  right  of  eminent  domain, 
and  all  property  vests  in  this  emperor.  This  facility  and  abun¬ 
dance  make  the  joy  of  his  narrative,  and  he  is  read  to  the 
neglect  of  more  careful  historians.  Yet  he  inspires  a  curiosity, 
sometimes  makes  a  necessity,  to  read  them.  He  disowns  any 
attempt  to  rival  Thucydides ;  but  I  suppose  he  has  a  hundred 
readers  where  Thucydides  finds  one,  and  Thucydides  must  often 
thank  Plutarch  for  that  one.  He  has  preserved  for  us  a  multi* 


Xll 


INTRODUCTION. 


tude  of  precious  sentences,  in  prose  or  verse,  of  authors  whoso 
books  are  lost ;  and  these  eptibalmed  fragments,  through  his  loving 
selection  alone,  have  come  to  be  proverbs  of  later  mankind.  I 
hope  it  is  only  my  immense  ignorance  tha't  makes  me  believe 
that  they  do  not  survive  out  of  his  pages,  —  not  only  Thespis, 
Polemos,  Euphorion,  Ariston,  Evenus,  <fec.,  but  fragments  of 
Menander  and  Pindar.  At  all  events,  it  is  in  reading  the  frag- 
jnents  he  has  saved  from  lost  authors  that  I  have  hailed  another 
example  of  the  sacred  care  which  has  unrolled  in  our  times, 
and  still  searches  and  unrolls from  ruined  libraries  and 
buried  cities,  and  has  drawn  attention  to  what  an  ancient  might 
call  the  politeness  of  Fate,  —  we  will  say,  more  advisedly,  the 
benign  Providence  which  uses  the  violence  of  war,  of  earthquakes, 
and  changed  watercourses,  to  save  underground  through  barbar¬ 
ous  ages  the  relics  of  ancient  art,  and  thus  allows  us  to  witness 
the  upturning  of  the  alphabets  of  old  races,  and  the  deciphering 
of  forgotten  languages,  so  to  colnplete  the  annals  of  the  fore¬ 
fathers  of  Asia,  Africa,  and  Europe. 

His  delight  in  poetry  makes  him  cite  with  joy  the  speech  of 
Gorgias,  “  that  the  tragic  poet  who  deceived  was  juster  than  he 
who  deceived  not,  and  he  that  was  deceived  was  wiser  than  he 
who  was  not  deceived.” 

It  is  a  consequence  of  this  poetic  trait  in  his  mind,  that  I  con¬ 
fess  that,  in  reading  him,  I  embrace  the  particulars,  and  carry  a 
faint  memory  of  the  argument  or  general  design  of  the  chapter ; 
but  he  is  not  less  welcome,  and  he  leaves  the  reader  with  a  relish 
and  a  necessity  for  completing  his  studies.  Many  examples 
might  be  cited  of  nervous  expression  and  happy  allusion,  that 
indicate  a  poet  and  an  orator,  though  he  is  not  ambitious  of 
these  titles,  and  cleaves  to  the  security  of  prose  narrative,  and 
only  shows  his  intellectual  sympathy  with  these ;  yet  I  cannot 
forbear  to  cite  one  or  two  sentences  which  none  who  reads 
them  will  forget.  In  treating  of  the  style  of  the  Pythian  Oracle, 
he  says, — 

“  Do  you  not  observe,  some  one  will  say,  what  a  grace  there  is  in  Sap¬ 
pho’s  measures,  and  how  they  delight  and  tickle  the  ears  and  fancies  of  the 
hearers?  Whereas  the  Sibyl,  with  her  frantic  grimaces,  uttering  sen¬ 
tences  altogether  thoughtful  and  serious,  neither  fucused  nor  perfumed, 
continues  her  voice  a  thousand  years  through  the  favor  of  the  Divinity 
that  speaks  within  her.” 


INTRODUCTION. 


Xlll 


Another  gives  an  insight  into  his  mystic  tendencies, — 

“  Early  this  morning,  asking  Epaminonclas  about  the  manner  of  Lysis’s 
burial,  I  found  that  Lysis  had  taught  him  as  far  as  the  incommunicable 
mysteries  of  our  sect,  and  that  the  same  Daemon  that  waited  on  Lysis, 
presided  over  him,  if  I  can  guess  at  the  pilot  from  the  sailing  of  the  ship. 
The  paths  of  life  are  large,  but  in  few  are  men  directed  by  the  Daemons. 
When  Theanor  had  said  this,  he  looked  attentively  on  Epaminondas,  as  if 
he  designed  a  fresh  search  into  his  nature  and  inclinations.” 

And  here  is  his  sentiment  on  superstition,  somewhat  condensed 
in  Lord  Bacon’s  citation  of  it :  “I  had  rather  a  great  deal  that 
men  should  say.  There  was  no  such  man  at  all  as  Plutarch,  than 
that  they  should  say,  that  there  was  one  Plutarch  that  would  eat 
up  his  children  as  soon  as  they  were  born,  as  the  poets  speak  of 
Saturn.” 

The  chapter  On  Fortune  ”  should  be  read  by  poets,  and  other 
wise  men  ;  and  the  vigor  of  his  pen  appears  in  the  chapter 
“  Whether  the  Athenians  were  more  Warlike  or  Learned,”  and  in 
his  attack  upon  Usurers. 

There  is,  of  course,  a  wide  difference  of  time  in  the  writing  of 
these  discourses,  and  so  in  their  merit.  Many  of  them  are  mere 
sketches  or  notes  for  chapters  in  preparation,  which  were  never 
digested  or  finished.  Many  are  notes  for  disputations  in  the 
lecture-room.  His  poor  indignation  against  Herodotus  was  per¬ 
haps  a  youthful  prize  essay ;  it  appeared  to  me  captious  and 
labored;  or  perhaps,  at  a  rhetorician’s  school,  the  subject  of 
Herodotus  being  the  lesson  of  the  day,  Plutarch  was  appointed  by 
lot  to  take  the  adverse  side. 

The  plain-speaking  of  Plutarch,  as  of  the  ancient  writers  gen¬ 
erally,  coming  from  the  habit  of  writing  for  one  sex  only,  has  a 
great  gain  for  brevity,  and,  in  our  new  tendencies  of  civilization, 
may  tend  to  correct  a  false  delicacy. 

We  are  always  interested  in  the  man  who  treats  the  intellect 
well.  We  expect  it  from  the  philosopher,  —  from  Plato,  Aristotle, 
Spinoza,  and  Kant ;  but  we  know  that  metaphysical  studies  in  any 
but  minds  of  large  horizon  and  incessant  inspiration  have  their 
dangers.  One  asks  sometimes  whether  a  metaphysician  can  treat 
the  intellect  well.  The  central  fact  is  the  superhuman  intelligence 
pouring  into  us  from  its  unknown  fountain,  to  be  received  with 
religious  awe,  and  defended  from  any  mixture  of  our  will.  But 


XIV 


INTRODUCTION. 


this  high  Muse  comes  and  goes  ;  and  the  danger  is  that,  when  the 
Muse  is  wanting,  the  student  is  prone  to  supply  its  place  with 
microscopic  subtleties  and  logomachy.  It  is  fatal  to  spiritual 
health  to  lose  your  admiration.  “  Let  others  wrangle,”  said  St. 
Augustine :  “  I  will  wonder.”  Plato  and  Plotinus  are  enthusiasts, 
who  honor  the  race  ;  but  the  logic  of  the  sophists  and  material¬ 
ists,  whether  Greek  or  French,  fills  us  with  disgust.  Whilst  we 
expect  tills  awe  and  reverence  of  the  spiritual  power  from  the 
philosopher  in  his  closet,  we  praise  it  in  the  man  of  the  world,  — 
the  man  who  lives  on  quiet  terms  with  existing  institutions,  yet 
indicates  his  perception  of  these  high  oracles,  as  do  Plutarch, 
Montaigne,  Hume,  and  Goethe.  These  men  lift  themselves  at 
once  from  the  vulgar,  and  are  not  the  parasites  of  wealth.  Per 
haps  they  sometimes  compromise,  go  out  to  dine,  make  and  take 
compliments ;  but  they  keep  open  the  source  of  wisdom  and 
health.  Plutarch  is  uniformly  true  to  this  centre.  He  had  not 
lost  his  wonder.  He  is  a  pronounced  idealist,  who  does  not  hesi¬ 
tate  to  say,  like  another  Berkeley,  “  Matter  is  itself  privation  ;  ” 
and  again,  “  The  Sun  is  the  cause  that  all  men  are  ignorant  of 
Apollo,  by  sense  withdrawing  the  rational  intellect  from  that 
which  is  to  that  which  appears.”  He  thinks  that  souls  are 
naturally  endowed  with  the  faculty  of  prediction ;  ”  he  delights 
in  memory,  with  its  miraculous  power  of  resisting  time.  He 
thinks  that  ‘‘  Alexander  invaded  Persia  with  greater  assistance 
from  Aristotle  than  from  his  father  Philip.”  He  thinks  that 
‘‘  he  who  has  ideas  of  his  own  is  a  bad  judge  of  another  man’s,  it 
being  true  that  the  Eleans  would  be  the  most  proper  judges  of 
the  Olympic  games,  were  no  Eleans  gamesters.”  He  says  of 
Socrates,  that  he  endeavored  to  bring  reason  and  things  together, 
and  make  truth  consist  with  sober  sense.  He  wonders  with  Plato 
at  that  nail  of  pain  and  pleasure  which  fastens  the  body  to  the 
mind.  The  mathematics  give  him  unspeakable  pleasure,  but  he 
chiefly  liked  that  proportion  which  teaches  us  to  account  that 
which  is  just,  equal ;  and  not  that  which  is  equal,  just. 

Of  philosophy  he  is  more  interested  in  the  results  than  in  the 
method.  He  has  a  just  instinct  of  the  presence  of  a  master,  and 
prefers  to  sit  as  a  scholar  with  Plato,  than  as  a  disputant;  and, 
true  to  his  practical  character,  he  wishes  the  philosopher  not  to 
hide  in  a  corner,  but  to  commend  himself  to  men  of  public  regards 
and  ruling  genius :  “  for,  if  he  once  possess  such  a  man  with 


INTRODUCTION. 


XV 


principles  of  honor  and  religion,  he  takes  a  compendious  method, 
by  doing  good  to  one,  to  oblige  a  great  part  of  mankind.”  ’Tis 
a  temperance,  not  an  eclecticism,  which  makes  him  adverse 
to  the  severe  Stoic,  or  the  Gymnosophist,  or  Diogenes,  or  any 
other  extremist.  That  vice  of  theirs  shall  not  hinder  him  from 
citing  any  good  word  they  chance  to  drop.  He  is  an  eclectic  in 
such  sense  as  Montaigne  was,  —  willing  to  be  an  expectant,  not  a 
dogmatist. 

In  many  of  these  chapters  it  is  easy  to  infer  the  relation 
between  the  Greek  philosophers  and  those  who  came  to  them  for 
instruction.  This  teaching  was  no  play  nor  routine,  but  strict, 
sincere,  and  affectionate.  The  part  of  each  of  the  class  is  as  im¬ 
portant  as  that  of  the  master.  They  are  like  the  base-ball  players, 
to  whom  the  pitcher,  the  bat,  the  catcher,  and  the  scout  arc 
equally  important.  And  Plutarch  thought,  with  Ariston,  “  that 
neither  a  bath  nor  a  lecture  served  any  purpose,  unless  they  were 
purgative.”  Plutarch  has  such  a  keen  pleasure  in  realities  that 
he  has  none  in  verbal  disputes  ;  he  is  impatient  of  sophistry,  and 
despises  the  Epicharmian  disputations :  as,  that  he  who  ran  in 
debt  yesterday  owes  nothing  to-day,  as  being  another  man  ;  so,  he 
that  was  yesterday  invited  to  supper,  the  next  night  comes  an 
unbidden  guest,  for  that  he  is  quite  another  person. 

Except  as  historical  curiosities,  little  can  be  said  in  behalf 
of  the  scientific  value  of  the  “  Opinions  of  the  Philosophers,”  the 
‘‘  Questions,”  and  the  ‘‘  Symposiacs.”  They  are,  for  the  most 
part,  very  crude  opinions ;  many  of  them  so  puerile  that  one 
would  believe  that  Plutarch  in  his  haste  adopted  the  notes  of  his 
younger  auditors,  some  of  them  jocosely  misreporting  the  dogma 
of  the  professor,  who  laid  them  aside  as  memoranda  for  future 
revision,  which  he  never  gave,  and  they  were  posthumously  pub¬ 
lished.  Now  and  then  there  are  hints  of  superior  science.  You 
may  cull  from  this  record  of  barbarous  guesses  of  shepherds  and 
travellers  statements  that  are  predictions  of  facts  established  in 
modern  science.  Usually,  when  Thales,  Anaximenes,  or  Anaxi¬ 
mander  are  quoted,  it  is  really  a  good  judgment.  The  explanation 
of  the  rainbow,  of  the  floods  of  the  Nile,  and  of  the  remora^  &q,.^ 
are  just ;  and  the  bad  guesses  are  not  worse  than  many  of  Lord 
Bacon’s. 

His  Natural  History  is  that  of  a  lover  and  poet,  and  not  of  a 


XVI 


INTRODUCTION. 


physicist.  His  humanity  stooped  affectionately  to  trace  the  virtues 
which  he  loved  in  the  animals  also.  “  Knowing  and  not  knowing 
is  the  affirmative  or  negative  of  the  dog  ;  knowing  you  is  to  be  your 
friend  ;  not  knowing  you,  your  enemy.”  He  quotes  Thucydides, 
saying,  “  that  not  the  desire  of  honor  only  never  grows  old,  but 
much  less  also  the  inclination  to  society  and  affection  to  the 
State,  which  continue  even  in  ants  and  bees  to  the  very  last.” 

But  though  curious  in  the  questions  of  the  schools  on  the  nature 
and  genesis  of  things,  his  extreme  interest  in  every  trait  of 
character,  and  his  broad  humanity,  lead  him  constantly  to  Morals, 
to  the  study  of  the  Beautiful  and  Good.  Hence  his  love  of  heroes, 
his  rule  of  life,  and  his  clear  convictions  of  the  high  destiny  of 
the  soul.  La  Harpe  said  “  that  Plutarch  is  the  genius  the  most 
naturally  moral  that  ever  existed.” 

’Tis  almost  inevitable  to  compare  Plutarch  with  Seneca, 
who,  born  fifty  years  earlier,  was  for  many  years  his  contem¬ 
porary,  though  they  never  met,  and  their  writings  were  perhaps 
unknown  to  each  other.  Plutarch  is  genial,  with  an  endless 
interest  in  all  human  and  divine  things ;  Seneca,  a  professional 
philosopher,  a  writer  of  sentences,  and,  though  he  keep  a  sublime 
path,  is  less  interesting,  because  less  humane  ;  and  when  we  have 
shut  his  book,  we  forget  to  open  it  again.  There  is  a  certain 
violence  in  his  opinions,  and  want  of  sweetness.  He  lacks  the 
sympathy  of  Plutarch.  He  is  tiresome  through  perpetual  didac¬ 
tics.  He  is  not  happily  living.  Cannot  the  simple  lover  of  truth 
enjoy  the  virtues  of  tliose  he  meets,  and  the  virtues  suggested  by 
them,  so  to  find  himself  at  some  time  purely  contented  ?  Seneca 
was  still  more  a  man  of  the  world  than  Plutarch  ;  and,  by  his 
conversation  with  the  Court  of  Nero,  and  his  own  skill,  like  A  ol 
taire’s,  of  living  with  men  of  business,  and  emulating  their  ad¬ 
dress  in  affairs  by  great  accumulation  of  his  own  property,  learned 
to  temper  his  philosophy  with  facts.  He  ventured  far  —  appar¬ 
ently  too  far  —  for  so  keen  a  conscience  as  he  inly  had.  Yet  we 
ow'e  to  that  wonderful  moralist  illustrious  maxims  ;  as  if  the  scar¬ 
let  vices  of  the  times  of  Nero  had  the  natural  effect  of  driving 
virtue  to  its  loftiest  antagonisms.  “  Seneca,”  says  L’Estrange, 
“  was  a  pagan  Christian,  and  is  very  good  reading  for  our  Chris¬ 
tian  pagans.”  He  was  Buddhist  in  his  cold  abstract  virtue,  with 
a  certain  impassibility  beyond  humanity.  He  called  “  pity,  that 


INTRODUCTION. 


XVll 


fault  of  narrow  souls.”  Yet  what  noble  words  we  owe  to  him : 
“  God  divided  man  into  men,  that  they  might  help  each  other ;  ” 
and  again, ‘‘  The  good  man  differs  from  God  in  nothing  but  dura¬ 
tion.”  His  thoughts  are  excellent,  if  only  he  had  a  right  to  say 
them.  Plutarch,  meantime,  with  every  virtue  under  heaven, 
thought  it  the  top  of  wisdom  to  philosophize,  yet  not  appear  to  do 
it,  and  to  reach  in  mirth  the  same  ends  which  the  most  serious 
are  proposing. 

Plutarch  thought  “  truth  to  be  the  greatest  good  that  man  can 
receive,  and  the  goodliest  blessing  that  God  can  give.”  “  When 
you  are  persuaded  in  your  mind  that  you  cannot  either  offer  or 
perform  any  thing  more  agreeable  to  the  gods  than  the  enter¬ 
taining  a  right  notion  of  them,  you  will  then  avoid  superstition  as 
a  no  less  evil  than  atheism.”  He  cites  Euripides  to  affirm,  “  If 
gods  do  aught  dishonest,  they  are  no  gods,”  and  the  memorable 
words  of  Antigone,  in  Sophocles,  concerning  the  moral  senti¬ 
ment  :  —  ^ 

“  For  neither  now  nor  yesterday  began 
Tliese  thoughts,  which  have  been  ever,  nor  yet  can 
A  man  be  found  who  their  first  entrance  knew." 

His  faith  in  the  immortality  of  the  soul  is  another  measure  of 
his  deep  humanity.  He  reminds  his  friends  that  the  Delphic 
oracles  have  given  several  answers  the  same  in  substance  as  that 
formerly  given  to  Coraz  the  Naxian  :  — 

“  It  sounds  profane  impiety 
To  teach  that  human  souls  e’er  die.” 

He  believes  that  the  doctrine  of  the  Divine  Providence,  and  that 
of  the  immortality  of  the  soul,  rest  on  one  and  the  same  basis. 
He  thinks  it  impossible  either  that  a  man  beloved  of  the  gods 
should  not  be  happy,  or  that  a  wise  and  just  man  should  not  be 
beloved  of  tlie  gods.  To  him  the  Epicureans  are  hateful,  who 
held  that  the  soul  perishes  when  it  is  separated  from  the  body. 
“  The  soul,  incapable  of  death,  suffers  in  the  same  manner  in  the 
body,  as  birds  that  are  kept  in  a  cage.”  He  believes  “  that  the 
souls  of  infants  pass  immediately  into  a  better  and  more  divine 
state.” 

I  can  easily  believe  that  an  anxious  soul  may  find  in  Plutarch’s 
chapter  called  “  Pleasure  not  attainable  by  Epicurus,”  and  liis 
“  Letter  to  his  Wife  Timoxena,”  a  more  sweet  and  reassuring 
argument  on  the  immortality  than  in  the  Phoedo  of  Plato ;  for 


XVlll 


INTRODUCTION. 


Plutarch  always  addresses  the  question  on  the  human  side,  and 
not  on  the  metaphysical ;  as  Walter  Scott  took  hold  of  boys 
and  young  men,  in  England  and  America,  and  through  them 
of  their  fathers.  His  grand  perceptions  of  duty  lead  him  to 
his  stern  delight  in  heroism ;  a  stoic  resistance  to  low  indulg¬ 
ence  ;  to  a  fight  with  fortune  ;  a  regard  for  truth ;  his  love  of 
Sparta,  and  of  heroes  like  Aristides,  Phocion,  and  Cato.  He 
insists  that  the  highest  good  is  in  action.  He  thinks  that  the 
inhabitants  of  Asia  came  to  be  vassals  to  one  only,  for  not 
having  been  able  to  pronounce  one  syllable ;  which  is.  No.  So 
keen  is  his  sense  of  allegiance  to  right  reason,  that  he  makes 
a  fight  against  Fortune  whenever  she  is  named.  At  Rome  he 
thinks  her  wings  were  clipped  :  she  stood  no  longer  on  a  ball, 
but  on  a  cube  as  large  as  Italy.  He  thinks  it  was  by  superior 
virtue  that  Alexander  won  his  battles  in  Asia  and  Afiica,  and 
the  Greeks  theirs  against  Persia. 

But  this  Stoic  in  his  fight  with  Fortune,  with  vices,  effeminacy, 
and  indolence,  is  gentle  as  a  woman  when  other  strings  are 
touched.  He  is  the  most  amiable  of  men.  “  To  erect  a  trophy 
in  the  soul  against  anger  is  that  which  none  but  a  great  and  vic¬ 
torious  puissance  is  able  to  achieve.”  —  Anger  turns  the  mind 
out  of  doors,  and  bolts  the  door.”  He  has  a  tenderness  almost  to 
tears  when  he  writes  on  ‘‘  Friendship,”  on  ‘‘  Marriage,”  on  “  the 
Training  of  Children,”  and  on  the  “  Love  of  Brothers.”  “  There 
is  no  treasure,”  he  says,  “  parents  can  give  to  their  children,  like 
a  brother  ;  ’tis  a  friend  given  by  nature,  a  gift  nothing  can  supply  ; 
once  lost,  not  to  be  replaced.  The  Arcadian  prophet,  of  whom 
Herodotus  speaks,  was  obliged  to  make  a  wooden  foot  in  place  of 
that  which  had  been  chopped  off.  A  brother,  embroiled  with  his 
brother,  going  to  seek  in  the  street  a  stranger  who  can  take  his 
place,  resembles  him  who  will  cut  off  his  foot  to  give  himself  one 
of  wood.” 

All  his  judgments  are  noble.  He  thought,  with  Epicurus,  that 
it  is  more  delightful  to  do  than  to  receiv  e  a  kindness.  This 
courteous,  gentle,  and  benign  disposition  and  behavior  is  not  so 
acceptable,  so  obliging  or  delightful  to  any  of  those  with  whom 
we  converse,  as  it  is  to  those  who  have  it.  There  is  leally  no 
limit  to  his  bounty :  “  It  would  be  generous  to  lend  our  eyes  and 
ears,  nay,  if  possible,  our  reason  and  fortitude  to  others,  whilst  we 
are  idle  or  asleep.”  His  excessive  and  fanciful  humanity  reminds 


INTRODUCTION. 


XIX 


one  of  Charles  Lamb,  whilst  it  much  exceeds  him.  When  the 
guests  are  gone,  he  “  would  leave  one  lamp  burning,  only  as  a  sign 
of  the  respect  he  bore  to  fires,  for  nothing  so  resembles  an  animal 
as  fire.  It  is  moved  and  nourished  by  itself,  and  by  its  brightness, 
like  the  soul,  discovers  and  makes  every  thing  apparent,  and  in  its 
quenching  shows  some  power  that  seems  to  proceed  from  a  vital 
principle,  for  it  makes  a  noise  and  resists,  like  an  animal  dying,  or 
violently  slaughtered  and  he  praises  the  Romans,  who,  when 
the  feast  was  over,  “  dealt  well  with  the  lamps,  and  did  not  take 
away  the  nourishment  they  had  given,  but  permitted  them  to  live 
and  shine  by  it.” 

I  can  almost  regret  that  the  learned  editor  of  the  present 
republication  has  not  preserved,  if  only  as  a  piece  of  history,  the 
preface  of  Mr.  Morgan,  the  editor  and  in  part  writer  of  this 
Translation  of  1718.  In  his  dedication  of  the  work  to  the  Arch¬ 
bishop  of  Canterbury,  Wm.  Wake,  he  tells  the  Primate  that 
“  Plutarch  was  the  wisest  man  of  his  age,  and,  if  he  had  been  a 
Christian,  one  of  the  best  too ;  but  it  was  his  severe  fate  to  flour¬ 
ish  in  those  days  of  ignorance^  which^  His  a  favorable  opinion  to 
hope  that  the  Almighty  will  sometime  wink  at ;  that  our  souls  may 
be  with  these  philosophers  together  in  the  same  state  of  bliss^ 
The  puzzle  in  the  worthy  translator's  mind  between  his  theology 
and  his  reason  well  re-appears  in  the  puzzle  of  his  sentence. 

I  know  that  the  chapter  of  Apothegms  of  Noble  Command¬ 
ers  ”  is  rejected  by  some  critics  as  not  a  genuine  work  of  Plutarch  ; 
but  the  matter  is  good,  and  is  so  agreeable  to  his  taste  and  genius, 
that  if  he  had  found  it,  he  would  have  adopted  it.  If  he  did  not 
compile  the  piece,  many,  perhaps  most,  of  the  anecdotes  were 
already  scattered  in  his  works.  If  I  do  not  lament  that  a  work 
not  his  should  be  ascribed  to  him,  I  regret  that  he  should  have 
suffered  such  destruction  of  his  own.  What  a  trilogy  is  lost  to 
mankind  in  his  Lives  of  Scipio,  Epaminondas,  and  Pindar  ! 

His  delight  in  magnanimity  and  self  sacrifice  has  made  his 
books,  like  Homer’s  Iliad,  a  bible  for  heroes ;  and  wherever  the 
Cid  is  relished,  the  legends  of  Arthur,  Saxon  Alfred,  and  Richard 
the  Lion-hearted,  Robert  Bruce,  Sydney,  Lord  Herbert  of  Cher- 
bury,  Cromwell,  Nelson,  Bonaparte,  and  Walter  Scott’s  Chronicles 
in  prose  or  verse, there  will  Plutarch,  who  told  the  story  of 
Leonidas,  of  Agesilaus,  of  Aristides,  Phocion,  Themistocles,  De- 


XX 


IJ^TKODUCTION. 


mosthenes,  Epaminondas,  CaBsar,  Cato,  and  the  rest,  sit  as  the 
bestower  of  the  crown  of  noble  knighthood,  and  laureate  of  the 
ancient  world. 

The  chapters  ‘‘  On  the  Fortune  of  Alexander,”  in  the  “  Morals,” 
are  an  important  appendix  to  the  portrait  in  the  “  Lives.”  The 
union  in  Alexander  of  sublime  courage  with  the  refinement  of  his 
pure  tastes,  making  him  the  carrier  of*  civilization  into  the  East, 
are  in  the  spirit  of  the  ideal  hero,  and  endeared  him  to  Plutarch . 
That  prince  kept  Homer’s  poems,  not  only  for  himself  inder  his 
pillow  ill  his  tent,  but  carried  these  for  the  delight  of  the  Persian 
youth,  and  made  them  acquainted  also  with  the  tragedies  of 
Euripides  and  Sophocles.  He  persuaded  the  Sogdians  not  to  kill, 
but  to  cherish  their  aged  parents  ;  the  Persians  to  reverence,  not 
mm’ry  their  mothers ;  the  Scythians  to  bury,  and  not  eat  their 
dead  parents.  What  a  fruit  and  fitting  monument  of  his  best 
days  was  his  city  Alexandria  to  be  the  birthplace  or  home  of 
Plotinus,  St.  Augustine,  Syuesius,  Posidonius,  Ammonius,  Jam- 
blichiis.  Porphyry,  Origen,  Aratus,  Apollonius,  and  Apuleius. 

If  Plutarch  delighted  in  heroes,  and  held  the  balance  between 
the  severe  Stoic  and  the  indulgent  Epicurean,  his  humanity  shines 
not  less  in  his  intercourse  with  his  personal  friends.  He  was  a 
genial  host  and  guest,  and  delighted  in  bringing  chosen  compan¬ 
ions  to  the  supper-table.  He  knew  the  laws  of  conversation  and 
the  laws  of  good-fellowship  quite  as  well  as  Horace,  and  has  set 
them  down  with  such,  candor  and  grace  as  to  make  them  good 
reading  to-day.  The  guests  not  invited  to  a  private  board  by  the 
entertainer,  but  introduced  by  a  guest  as  his  companions,  the 
Greeks  called  shadows ;  and  the  question  is  debated  whether  it 
was  civil  to  bring  them,  and  he  treats  it  candidly,  but  concludes : 

Therefore,  when  I  make  an  invitation,  since  it  is  hard  to  break 
the  custom  of  the  place,  I  give  my  guests  leave  to  bring  shadows  ; 
but  when  I  myself  am  invited  as  a  shadow,  I  assure  you  I  refuse 
to  go.”  He  has  an  objection  to  the  introduction  of  music  at 
feasts.  Jle  thought  it  wonderful  that  a  man  having  a  muse  in 
his  own  breast,  and  all  the  pleasantness  that  would  fit  an  enter¬ 
tainment,  would  have  pipes  and  harps  play,  and  by  that  external 
noise  destroy  all  the  sweetness  that  was  proper  and  his  own. 

I  cannot  close  these  notes  without  expressing  my  sense  of  the 
valuable  service  which  the  Editor  has  rendered  to  his  Author  and  to 


INTRODUCTION. 


XXI 


his  readers.  Professor  Goodwin  is  a  silent  benefactor  to  the  book, 
wherever  I  have  compared  the  editions.  I  did  not  know  how  care¬ 
less  and  vicious  in  parts  the  old  book  was,  until  in  recent  reading 
of  the  old  text,  on  coming  on  any  thing  absurd  or  unintelligible,  I 
referred  to  the  new  text,  and  found  a  clear  and  accurate  statement 
ir.  its  place.  It  is  the  vindication  of  Plutarch.  The  correction 
is  not  only  of  names  of  authors  and  of  places  grossly  altered  or 
misspelled,  but  of  unpardonable  liberties  taken  by  the  transla¬ 
tors,  whether  from  negligence  or  freak. 

One  proof  of  Plutarch’s  skill  as  a  writer  is  that  he  bears  trans¬ 
lation  so  well.  In  spite  of  its  carelessness’  and  manifold  faults, 
which,  I  doubt  not,  have  tried  the  patience  of  its  present  learned 
editor  and  corrector,  I  yet  confess  my  enjoyment  of  this  old 
version  for  its  vigorous  English  style.  The  work  of  some 
forty  or  fifty  University  men,  some  of  them  imperfect  in  their 
Greek,  it  is  a  monument  of  the  English  language  at  a  period 
of  singular  vigor  and  freedom  of  style.  I  hope  the  Commission 
of  the  Pliilological  Society  in  London,  charged  wdth  the  duty  of 
preparing  a  Critical  Dictionary,  will  not  overlook  these  volumes, 
which  show  the  wealth  of  their  tongue  to  greater  advantage 
than  many  books  of  more  renown  as  models.  It  runs  through 
the  whole  scale  of  conversation  in  the  street,  the  market,  the 
coffee-house,  the  law  courts,  the  palace,  the  college,  and  the 
church.  There  are,  no  doubt,  many  vulgar  phrases,  and  many 
blunders  of  the  printer ;  but  it  is  the  speech  of  business  and  con¬ 
versation,  and  in  every  tone,  from  lowest  to  highest. 

Wo  owe  to  these  translators  many  sharp  perceptions  of  the  wit 
and  humor  of  their  author,  sometimes  even  to  the  adding  of  the 
point.  I  notice  one,  wdiich,  although  the  translator  has  justified 
his  rendering  in  a  note,  the  severer  criticism  of  the  Editor  has 
not  retained.  ‘‘  Were  there  not  a  sun,  we  might,  for  all  the  other 
stars,  pass  our  days  in  Reverend  Dark,  as  Heraclitus  calls  it.” 
I  find  a  humor  in  the  phrase  which  might  well  excuse  its  doubtful 
accuracy. 

It  is  a  service  to  our  Republic  to  publish  a  book  that  can  force 
ambitious  young  men,  before  they  mount  the  platform  of  the 
county  conventions,  to  read  the  “  Laconic  Apothegms  ”  and  the 
“  Apothegms  of  Great  Commanders.”  If  we  could  keep  the 
secret,  and  communicate  it  only  to  a  few  chosen  aspirants,  we 


XXll 


INTRODUCTION. 


might  confide  that,  by  this  noble  infiltration,  they  would  easily 
carry  the  victory  over  all  competitors.  But,  as  it  was  the  desire 
of  these  old  patriots  to  fill  with  their  majestic  spirit  all  Sparta 
or  Rome,  and  not  a  few  leaders  only,  we  hasten  to  offer  them  to 
the  American  people. 

Plutarch’s  popularity  will  return  in  rapid  cycles.  If  over-read 
in  this  decade,  so  that  his  anecdotes  and  opinions  become  com¬ 
monplace,  and  to-day’s  novelties  are  sought  for  variety,  his 
sterling  values  will  presently  recall  the  eye  and  thought  of  the 
best  minds,  and  his  books  will  be  reprinted  and  read  anew  by 
coming  generations.  And  thus  Plutarch  will  be  perpetually 
rediscovered  from  time  to  time  as  long  as  books  last. 


CONTENTS. 

) 


CONCERNING  THE  CURE  OF  ANGER. 

^How  may  a  tendency  to  anger  be  overcome '?  2.  Not  by  the  interference  of  other 
persons,  3.  The  mind  being  then  under  the  influence  of  stormy  passion,  4. 
The  aid  of  reason  and  judgment  is  more  effectual,  5i/  Resist  the  beginning  of 
anger,  5.  r/ When  inclined  to  anger,  try  to  be  quiet  and  composed,  6,  7.  Anger 
is  unreasonable  and  foolish,  7.V  It  disfigures  the  countenance,  8.  Tends  to  one’s 
dishonor  and  discredit,  9.  Produces  absurd  and  insulting  speeches,  10.  Is  dis¬ 
ingenuous  and  unmanly,  10.^  Indicates  a  weak  mind,  10.  Discovers  meanness 
of  spirit,  11.  Fortitude  consists  with  a  mild  temper,  12.^^  Anger  can  destroy,  it 
cannot  restore,  14.  It  often  overreaches  itself,  15.  Excessive  urgency  often  fails 
of  success,  15.  Forbearance  towards  servants  urged,  16.  Anger  towards  servants 
makes  them  worse,  16.  Never  punish  in  anger,  17.  Allow  anger  to  cool,  17. 
No  harm  arises  from  deferring  anger,  17.  Causes  of  anger  examined  ;  we  think 
we  incur  contempt  without  it,  18;Tt  arises  from  self-love,  20 ;  and  a  spirit  of 
fault-finding,  20.  The  absence  of  these  makes  a  man  gentle  towards  others,  21, 
22.  Nobody  can  dwell  with  an  angry  man,  22.  Anger,  the  essence  of  all  bad 
passions,  24.  Good  temper  in  us  will  disarm  others,  23.  Moderate  expectations 
prevent  anger,  24.  ,  Knowledge  of  human  nature  softens  auger,  25.  Make  trial 
for  a  few  days  of  abstinence  from  anger,  27. 

OF  SUPERSTITION,  OR  INDISCREET  DEVOTION. 

Ignorance  respecting  God  may  lead  either  to  atheism  or  superstition,  28.  Atheism 
and  superstition  compared,  28,  et  seq.  Atheism  tends  to  indifference,  super¬ 
stition  to  terror,  29.  Superstition  infuses  into  the  mind  a  constant  alarm  and 
dread,  30.  Superstition  allows  of  no  escape  from  fear,  it  permits  no  hope,  32. 
It  perverts  the  moral  sense,  33,  34.  The  atheist  may  be  fretful  and  impatient ; 
the  superstitious  man  charges  all  his  misfortunes  and  troubles  to  God,  35.  Is 
full  of  unreasonable  apprehensions,  36.  Converts  tolerable  evils  into  fatal  ones, 
37.  Misinterprets  the  course  of  nature,  37.  Is  afraid  of  things  that  will  not 
hurt  him,  37.  Allows  himself  no  enjoyment,  38.  Entertains  dishonorable 
thoughts  of  God,  40 ;  and  thus  is  morally  wrong,  41.  He  secretly  hates  God, 
and  would  have  no  God,  41.  Superstition  affords  an  apology  for  atheism,  42. 
Superstition  of  the  Gauls,  Scythians,  and  Carthaginians  ;  they  offered  human  sac¬ 
rifices,  42,  43.  In  avoiding  superstition  do  not  fall  into  atheism,  44. 


XXIV 


CONTENTS. 


CONSOLATION  TO  APOLLONIUS. 

The  son  of  Apollonius  had  died,  45.  Apathy  and  excessive  grief  are  alike  unnat¬ 
ural  and  improper,  46.  Avoid  both  of  these  extremes,  46.  Uninterrupted 
happiness  is  not  to  be  expected,  48.  Every  thing  is  subject  to  change,  49. 
Evil  is  to  be  expected,  50,  51.  Sorrow  will  not  remove  suffering,  52,  53. 
Others  are  in  trouble  besides  ourselves,  54.  Why  should  death  be  considered 
so  great  an  evil  ?  54.  Death  is  but  the  debt  of  nature,  55.  Death  is  inevitable, 
and  the  termination  of  all  human  calamity,  56.  Death  is  the  brother  of  sleep, 
57.  Deatli  divests  us  of  the  body,  and  thus  frees  us  from  great  evil,  58.  The 
gods  have  often  sent  death  as  a  reward  for  distinguished  piety;  illustrated  by 
the  cases  of  Biton  and  Cleobis,  of  Agamedes  and  Trophonius,  of  Pindar  and 
Euthynous,  59,  60.  Even  if  death  be  the  extinction  of  our  being,  it  is  no  evil, 
and  why,  61.  Even  untimely  death  may  shield  from  evil,  63.  Not  long  life, 
but  virtuous  is  desirable,  63,  64.  Sorrow  for  the  dead  may  proceed  from  selfish 
considerations,  65.  Does  the  mourner  intend  to  cherish  grief  as  long  as  he 
lives  ?  66.  Excessive  grief  is  unmanly,  67.  An  untimely  death  differs  not 
much  from  that  which  is  timely,  68.  It  may  be  desirable,  69,  70.  Excessive 
grief  is  unreasonable,  71.  The*  state  of  the  dead  is  better  than  that  of  the 
living,  72.  The  evil  in  the  world  far  exceeds  the  good,  73.  Life  is  a  loan,  soon 
to  be  recalled,  73*  Some  people  are  querulous  and  can  never  be  satisfied,  75. 
Death  is  fixed  by  fate,  77.  Life  is  short,  and  should  not  be  wasted  in  unavailing 
sorrow,  78.  Derive  comfort  from  the  example  of  those  who  have  borne  the 
death  of  their  sons  bravely,  78,  79.  Providence  wisely  disposes,  81.  Your 
son  died  attlie  best  time  for  him,  81.  He  is  now  numbered  with  the  blest,  82. 
The  conclusion  ;  a  touching  appeal  to  Apollonius,  85. 

OF  LARGE  ACQUAINTANCE:  OR,  AN  ESSAY  TO  PROVE  THE 
FOLLY  OF  SEEKING  MANY  FRIENDS. 

True  friendship  a  thing  of  rare  occurrence,  86.  In  the  early  times,  friends  went  in 
pairs,  Orestes  and  Pylades,  S^c.,  87.  True  friendship  cannot  embrace  a  multi¬ 
tude,  88.  If  we  have  numerous  acquaintances,  there  should  be  one  eminently 
a  friend,  88. '/The  requisites,  to  a  true  friendship,  89.i."^The  difficulty  of  finding 
a  true  friend,  89.  Be  not  hasty  in  getting  friends,  90.  Admit  none  to  your 
confidence  without  long  and  thorough  trial,  90.  As  true  friendship  cements. two 
hearts  into  one,  so  a  large  acquaintance  divides  and  distracts  the  heart,  91.  We 
cannot  discharge  the  obligations  of  friendship  to  a  multitude,  92 ;  therefore  do 
not  attempt  it,  93.  Joining  one’s  self  intimately  to  another  involves  one  in  his 
calamities,  94.  Real  friendship  always  has  its  origin  in  likeness,  even  in  brutes, 
94.  There  must  be  a  substantial  oneness,  95.  Therefore  it  is  next  to  a  mir¬ 
acle  to  find  a  constant  and  sure  friend,  96. 

OF  ENVY  AND  HATRED. 

Envy  and  Hatred  are  alike  opposed  to  Benevolence,  97.  Yet  they  are  distinct  pas¬ 
sions,  97.  Their  points  of  difference,  97,  et  seq.  Hatred  regards  the  hated  person 
as  evil ;  envy  regards  only  the  felicity  of  others,  97.  Hatred  may  be  directed 
against  brutes ;  envy  is  directed  only  against  man,  98.  Brutes  may  hate  but 
never  envy  brutes,  98. \  Envy  is  always  unjust ;  hatred  is  often  just,  98. 
Hatred  increases  as  the  object  grows  worse ;  envy  rises  higher  as  the  object 
increases  in  virtue,  99.  Envy  often  ceases  when  the  object  has  risen  to  supreme 
power;  hatred  never  ceases,  100. 


CONTENTS. 


XXV 


HOW  A  MAN  MAY  INOFFENSIVELY  PRAISE  HIMSELF  WITHOUT 

BEING  LIABLE  TO  ENVY. 

An  arrogant  boaster  is  universally  condemned,  102.  Yet  there  are  times  when  a 
i  man  may  fitly  praise  himself,  103.  A  man  may  vindicate  his  worthy  acts  when 
h  maligned  by  others,  105.  Instances  of  this  in  Pericles,  Pelopidas,  Epaminondas, 
/  105.  A  man  grappling  with  ill-fortune  may  vindicate  himself,  100.  A  man  may 
doit,  if  treated  ungratefully,  107.  Or  if  unjustly  accused  of  evil  acts,  108.  A 
man  may  indirectly  praise  himself  by  praising  others  who  are  of  similar  charac¬ 
ter,  109.  Envy  may  be  forestalled  by  giving  the  credit  of  our  good  actions  to 
Fortune  or  to  God,  110;  and  by  admissions  of  partial  wrong  in  our  character  or 
conduct,  112,  113.  We  may  praise  ourselves  when  it  seems  to  be  for  the  advan¬ 
tage  of  others,  114  ;  and  when  by  so  doing  we  may  silence  an  insolent  and  blus¬ 
tering  man,  115.  When  evil  conduct  is  praised,  and  we  may  attract  the  attention 
of  the  company  to  a  worthier  example,  116.  In  general  we  should  avoid  talking 
about  ourselves,  117.  This  habit  engenders  boasting  and  vain-glory,  118.  It 
leads  to  the  disparagement  of  others,  119.  We  should  hear  our  praises  uttered 
with  modesty  and  caution,  120 ;  otherwise  we  incur  disgrace,  121. 

A  DISCOURSE  CONCERNING  SOCRATES’S  DAEMON. 

Introduction,  122.  Supposed  conversation  among  some  friends  respecting  affairs  at 
Thebes,  at  the  period  of  the  return  of  the  exiles,  123-126.  About  Pelopidas, 
Epaminondas,  Charon,  Archias,  Leontidas,  Lysanoridas,  125, 126.  Plan  for  liber¬ 
ating  Thebes  from  the  Spartan  rule,  126.  Strange  portents  and  omens,  127-129. 
Recourse  to  Egypt  for  the  interpretation  of  a  strange,  antiquated  writing,  127- 
129.  The  writing  interpreted,  130.  Folly  of  superstition,  131.  Socrates  pursued 
a  more  rational  method,  131.  What  shall  we  think  of  his  Daemon  ?  132.  Was 
it  some  trifling  thing,  as  an  omen  or  a  sneeze  ?  133,  135.  It  could  be  nothing  but 
sound  judgment,  134.  A  stranger  from  Italy  introduced,  136.  His  account  of 
affairs  at  Metapontum,  137.  Lysis  had  escaped  from  massacre  at  Metapontum, 
and  been  hospitably  received  at  Thebes,  138.  Theanor,  the  stranger,  offers 
money  in  requital  for  the  kindness  bestowed  on  Lysis,  138.  The  offer  refused, 
and  why,  139.  Discourse  of  Epaminondas  thereon,  140-142.  Epaminondas  has 
a  good  Daemon,  143.  The  conversation  turns  on  the  liberation  of  Thebes  from 
the  Spartan  garrison,  144.  Fear  that  the  plot  is  discovered,  145.  Dreams  and 
omens,  145, 146.  The  Daemon  of  Socrates  again,  147, 148.  A  strong  impression 
made  on  the  mind  of  some  extraordinary  man  is  from  a  Daemon,  like  that  of 
Socrates,  150.  A  romantic  dream  related,  151-155.  A  descent  into  the  infernal 
regions,  153.  Daemons  are  seen  there;  their  connection  with  human  beings  on 
earth,  154,  155.  The  Pythagorean  philosophy  respecting  dreams,  daemons,  and 
sacred  impulses,  156,  157.  Epaminondas  refuses  to  kill  any  citizen  without  pro¬ 
cess  of  law,  158.  Slaughter  of  the  Spartan  commanders  and  liberation  of 
Thebes,  158-167. 


HOW  A  MAN  MAY  BE  SENSIBLE  OF  HIS  PROGRESS  IN  VIRTUE. 

There  can  be  no  progress  in  virtue  while  habits  of  wrong-doing  continue  un¬ 
changed,  168.  A  change  from  vice  to  virtue  is  not  instantaneous,  it  must  be 
progressive,  169.  The  opinion  of  theEtoics  confuted  that  all  men  are  equally 
vicious,  170.  As  there  are  degrees  of  moral  improvement,  they  are  e.asily  dis¬ 
cernible,  171.  Constant  endeavors  to  be  good  may  inspire  confidence  of  success, 


XXVI 


CONTENTS. 


172.  It  is  a  good  sign  if  our  efforts  after  moral  improvement  become  more 
intense  and  constant,  173.  And  if  difficulties  gradually  disappear.  174.  Ex¬ 
amples  given,  175.  It  is  a  good  sign  if  the  ridicule  or  opposition  of  friends  do 
not  induce  us  to  leave  our  studies,  176.  What  may  evince  proficiency  in  virtue, 
177.  Many  fail  of  advantage  from  the  study  of  philosophy,  178.  In  hearing 
lectures  or  reading,  attend  to  things  spoken  rather  than  the  words,  179.  Do  not 
read  merely  to  admire  the  style,  179.  Be  more  ready  to  hear  than  to  speak,  181. 
Maintain  an  unruffled  temper,  181.  Cultivate  presence  of  mind,  182.  Be  guided 
by  truth  rather  than  ostentation,  183.  Exercise  self-restraint,  183  ;  and  modera¬ 
tion,  184.  Cultivate  a  serious  spirit,  185.  Be  willing  to  receive  admonition,  180, 
187.  When  in  the  wrong,  willingly  acknowledge  it,  188.  Effects  of  careful  and 
persistent  training,  190.  Pleasant  dreams  indicate  ijroficiency  in  virtue,  191. 
Not  only  love  and  admire  but  imitate  virtuous  examples,  192.  Let  some  vir¬ 
tuous  example  ever  be  in  our  thoughts,  194.  Cultivate  the  acquaintance  of  the 
wise  and  good,  195.  Carefully  avoid  every  fault,  196. 

WHETHER  ’TWERE  RIGHTLY  SAID,  LIVE  CONCEALED. 

He  who  said  this  had  no  mind  to  live  concealed,  197.  Such  men  strive  hard  to  be 
known,  197.  Even  a  bad  man  ought  not  to  withdraw  from  the  notice  of  others, 
198.  It  is  a  loss  to  the  world,  if  virtuous  men  live  concealed,  199.  If  brave  and 
good  men  become  known,  they  are  examples  to  others,  200.  Virtue  by  use  grows 
bright ;  but  human  abilities,  unemployed,  go  to  decay,  201.  Our  life  and  all  our 
faculties  were  given  to  be  used,  and  to  make  us  known,  202.  Only  a  vicious, 
useless  life  should  be  forgotten,  204. 

OF  BANISHMENT,  OR  FLYING  ONE’S  COUNTRY. 

Afflicted  persons  need  to  have  their  grief  lightened,  not  increased,  205.  Banisli- 
ment  may  not  be  an  evil  of  itself,  but  only  as  the  mind  makes  it  such,  206.  If  it 
be  an  evil,  philosophy  may  help  a  man  to  bear  it,  207.  If  it  be  an  evil,  let  us 
consider  how  much  good  remains  to  balance  it,  208.  By  nature,  we  have  no 
country,  we  are  citizens  of  the  world,  208,  209.  In  whatever  part  of  the  world 
we  are,  we  may  make  ourselves  at  home,  210.  It  is  folly  to  suppose  that  we  ca»i- 
not  enjoy  life  but  where  we  were  born,  210.  A  man  of  skill  and  ability  can 
thrive  anywhere,  211.  Custom  makes  every  tiling  and  every  place  pleasant,  212. 
Change  of  scene  may  afford  relief,  213.  Happiness  is  not  limited  to  place,  214. 
The  Cyclades  are  places  of  exile,  yet  great  men  have  lived  there,  214.  Homer 
commends  islands  as  places  of  abode,  215.  An  island  may  be  a  place  of  much 
quiet  and  enjoyment,  215,  216.  Few  of  the  prudent  and  wise  were  buried  in 
their  own  country,  217.  Instances  of  the  fact,  218.  Some  of  the  finest  human 
compositions  were  written  in  exile,  219.  Instances  of  this,  219.  It  is  not  igno¬ 
minious  to  be  banished,  219,  220.  Instances  produced,  220,  223.  Banishment 
does  not  deprive  us  of  our  liberty,  221.  We  are  all  strangers  and  pilgrims  on 
earth  ;  the  soul  being  of  heavenly  origin,  224. 

OF  MORAL  VIRTUE. 

Plan  of  the  essay,  226.  Opinions  of  philosophers  :  of  Menedemus,  Ariston,  Zeno, 
Chrysippus,  227.  Opinion  of  Plato,  229 ;  of  Aristotle,  230.  The  soul  has  a 
twofold  nature,  228.  It  is  composed  of  intellect  or  reason,  and  the  passions,  230. 
The  reason  and  an  intelligent  judgment  must  govern,  231.  The  passions  by 


CONTENTS. 


xxvii 


long  training  become  subject  to  the  reason,  the  result  is  moral  virtue,  233. 
Science  and  Prudence,  what,  and  their  objects,  234.  How  science  and  prudence 
differ,  234,  235.  Prudence  has  need  of  deliberation,  235.  It  corrects  tlie  excesses 
and  defects  of  passion,  235.  Moral  virtue  is  the  mean  between  excess  and  defect, 
2.36.  Yet  it  needs  the  ministry  of  the  passions,  236.  Mean  and  mediocrity  not 
the  same  thing,  236.  The  idea  further  illustrated,  237.  Continence  distin¬ 
guished  from  temperance,  238.  Incontinence  and  intemperance,  239.  Illus¬ 
trations,  240,  241.  Moral  virtue  is  firm  and  immovable,  243.  The  passions  are 
subject  to  frequent  and  sudden  changes,  243.  When  reason  is  overborne  by 
passion,  there  is  a  sense  of  guilt,  244.  Reason  is  not  at  variance  with  itself,  245 
The  soul  is  at  peace,  where  passion  does  not  interpose,  245.  Reason  tends  to 
what  is  true  and  just,  245.  Reason,  left  to  itself,  embraces  the  truth,  246.  It  is 
often  hindered  by  passion,  246.  Reason  and  passion  often  divide  the  soul,  247. 
They  often  harmonize  and  concur,  248.  Some  philosophers  affirm  that  reason 
and  passion  do  not  materiall}'^  differ,  243.  Their  opinions  controverted,  244,  et  seq. 
Their  improper  use  of  terms,  249.  The  passions  differ  with  their  occasions,  251. 
Men  may  mistake  in  their  judgments,  252.  The  passions,  deriving  their  strength 
from  the  body,  are  powerful  in  the  young,  254.  The  state  of  the  body  cor¬ 
responds  with  the  state  of  the  passions,  255.  We  should  not  seek  to  exterminate 
the  passions,  but  to  regulate  and  control  them,  255.  The  passions  have  their 
proper  use,  256.  These  considerations  are  of  importance  in  the  government  of 
States,  and  in  the  education  of  the  young,  258,  259. 


CONCERNING  SUCH  WHOM  GOD  IS  SLOW  TO  PUNISH. 

Concerning  those  whom  God  is  slow  to  punish.”  This  subject  is  discussed 
between  Plutarch  and  several  of  his  relatives,  Plutarch  being  the  principal 
speaker.  Epicurus  had  just  left  the  company  uttering  invectives  against  the 
justice  of  the  Deity  in  the  government  of  the  world,  260.  It  is  admitted  that  the 
delay  of  divine  justice  gives  rise  to  perplexing  thoughts,  261.  Some  of  the 
objections  are, —  (1)  Such  delay  seems  to  proceed  from  indifference  on  the  part 
of  the  Deity  to  the  desert  of  crime  ;  (2)  Punishment  long  delayed  fails  to  restrain 
the  commission  of  crime,  as  a  speedy  retribution  would  do ;  (3)  It  is  often  entirely 
useless  as  a  reparation  to  those  who  have  suffered  from  injustice ;  (4)  It  embold¬ 
ens  the  transgressor,  261 ;  (5)  It  diminishes  in  many  minds  the  belief  of  Divine 
Providence  ;  (6)  Punishment  long  delayed  fails  of  any  good  effect  on  the  offender 
himself,  263.  To  what  good  purpose,  then,  do  the  millstones  of  the  gods  grind, 
when  they  grind  so  slowly?  263.  To  these  objections  it  is  answered  as  follows. 
It  becomes  us  to  enter  on  such  inquiries  with  great  caution  and  self-distrust, 
because  our  knowledge  of  God  and  of  his  ways  is  extremely  narrow  and  imper¬ 
fect,  264.  AVe  are  very  incompetent  judges  of  what  it  is  fit  for  God  to  do,  264. 
God  only  knows  when,  and  in  what  manner,  and  how  much  to  punish,  264.  Those 
who  are  ignorant  of  music  or  of  military  affliirs  are  not  competent  judges  of 
those  matters,  264.  No  one  who  is  not  properly  trained  can  wisely  administer 
human  law,  265.  The  remissness  of  which  complaint  is  made  is  true  only  in 
part,  and  is  only  apparent.  So  far  as  it  is  real,  it  may  be  vindicated  by  the  fol¬ 
lowing  considerations:  (1)  The  Deity,  by  being  slow  to  punish,  teaches  us  to 
moderate  our  anger,  and  never  to  punish  in  a  passion,  266.  He  would  lead  us  to 
imitate  his  own  gentleness  and  forbearance,  267 ;  (2)  The  wicked,  in  consequence 
of  delay,  liave  opportunity  to  repent,  and  are  therefore  spared  from  a  desire  of 
their  reformation,  268;  The  summary  justice,  to  which  the  passions  of  men 


xxvni  ■ 


CONTENTS. 


r 


incite  them,  excludes  all  regard  to  this  object,  and  degenerates  into  the  mere 
gratification  of  malice  and  revenge,  268;  Tlie  wisdom  of  the  divine  policy,  so 
different  from  this,  is  fully  justified  by  the  results,  since  history  records  many 
instances  where  men  who,  in  early  life,  were  profligate,  have  afterwards  reformed 
and  become  useful  to  society,  269,  270;  (8)  The  wicked  are  often  permitted  to 
live  and  prosper,  that  Providence  may  by  them  execute  its  justice  on  others,  of 
which  instances  are  given,  271,  272  ;  (4)  The  wicked  are  sometimes  spared  that 
a  noble  and  virtuous  posterity,  proceeding  from  them,  may  bless  the  world,  272; 
(5)  Punishment  is  sometimes  deferred  for  a  time  that  the  hand  of  Providence 
may  be  more  conspicuous  in  inflicting  it,  273.  But  the  objection  against  an  over¬ 
ruling  Providence,  founded  on  the  prosperity  of  the  wicked,  assumes  too  much; 
the  delay  is  apparent  rather  than  real,  274.  Petribution  follows  hard  on  the 
steps  of  crime,  in  the  shame,  remorse,  and  inward  suffering  of  the  offender,  274. 
Many  look  with  envy  on  wicked  men  who  seem  to  enjoy  high  prosperity,  while 
those  men  are  soon  to  become  involved  in  the  deepest  misery,  274.  Wicked  men 
suffer  not  a  late  but  a  long  punishment ;  they  suffer  all  the  time,  275.  What  we 
call  delay,  is  not  such  to  the  Deity  ;  distinctions  of  time  with  him  have  no  place, 
275.  It  is  not  the  last  moment  of  punishment  which  contains  all  the  punish¬ 
ment,  275.  God  has  the  offender  all  the  while  in  his  power,  and  does  not  suffer 
him  to  rest,  276.  Instances  are  given  of  remorse  suffered  by  the  guilty,  276,  277. 
Were  death  the  extinction  of  our  being,  it  might  still  be  maintained  that  the 
Deity  is  not  remiss  in  punishing  crime,  277.  The  wicked  find,  even  here,  that 
no  real  good  conies  from  their  wickedness,  278.  Self-condemnation,  a  dread  of 
censure,  a  fear  of  death,  embitter  their  lives,  279.  One  of  the  company  now 
leads  the  conversation  to  a  kindred  subject,  the  question  how  the  conduct  of 
Providence  can  be  justified  in  punishing  children  for  the  misconduct  of  their 
parents,  of  which  several  instances  are  quoted,  280,  281.  To  this  it  is  replied  ; 

(1)  Children  often  derive  advantage  from  the  virtue  and  piety  of  their  fathers; 
it  is  not  therefore  strange  that  they  should  suffer  for  their  wickedness,  283,  284. 

(2)  The  law  of  cause  and  effect  comes  in  here,  as  in  other  cases,  though  we  may 

not  fully  explain  it ;  children  often  inherit  the  diseases  of  their  parents ;  the 
plague  of  Athens  took  its  rise  in  far  distant  Ethiopia,  285.  (3)  The  constitution 

of  society  binds  one  generation  to  another,  and  thus  renders  this  retribution  just, 
as  well  as  inevitable ;  every  family,  as  well  as  every  state,  has  a  separate  exist¬ 
ence,  a  personal  identity  of  its  own,  and  it  is  one  and  the  same  through  succes¬ 
sive  ages ;  hence  the  social  crime  of  one  age  may  properly  work  out  its  legitimate 
results  in  another,  286-288.  (4)  In  all  cases,  God  deals  with  men  according  to 

their  deserts  ;  if  children  are  virtuous,  they  are  not  harmed  for  what  their  ances¬ 
tors  have  done,  289.  But,  says  one  of  the  company,  some  of  your  remarks  imply 
the  immortality  of  the  soul,  288,  289.  Plutarch  answers,  yes;  and  we  have  good 
reason  for  assuming  that  point ;  if  we  were  like  the  leaves  which  fall  from  the 
trees  in  autumn,  or  like  the  hot-house  plant  which  has  no  enduring  root ;  if  we 
were  brought  into  existence  to  endure  only  for  a  day,  it  would  be  unworthy  of 
the  Deity  to  lavish  so  much  care  upon  us,  289.  The  immortality  of  the  soul, 
and  an  overruling  Providence,  are  confirmed  to  us  by  the  same  argument,  290. 
If  the  soul  survives  the  body,  we  may  conclude  that  its  future  state  will  be  one 
of  reward  or  punishment,  because  life  is  a  struggle  and  a  probation,  290.  Punish¬ 
ments  that  reach  posterity  often  restrain  the  inclinations  of  wicked  persons,  291. 
Children  born  of  diseased  parents  need  to  be  guarded  against  the  hereditary 
disease,  292.  And  children  of  wicked  parents  will  be  themselves  wicked,  unless 
careful  and  timely  restraints  be  placed  upon  them,  293,  294.  God  sees  the  inbred 


CONTENTS. 


XXIX 


corruption  if  we  do  not,  and  often  does  not  wait  till  the  actual  outbreak  before 
animadverting  upon  it,  294,  295.  Dormant  villany  may  be  more  dangerous  than 
open  iniquity,  and  so  may  need  chastisement,  295.  The  innocent  are  never 
punished  for  the  guilty  ;  but  if  a  man  tread  in  his  father’s  steps,  he  must  succeed 
to  his  punishment,  295,  29G.  The  argument  is  enforced  by  the  story  of  a  man 
who  lived  a  dishonest  and  wicked  life ;  who  appeared  to  die ;  visited  tlie  world 
of  spirits  ;  saw  the  rewards  and  punishments  there  experienced  ;  came  back  to 
life,  and  was  greatly  reformed  in  consequence,  297-308. 

OF  GARRULITY,  OR  TALKATIVENESS. 

Talkativeness  an  inveterate  disease,  309.  Talkative  people  are  very  troublesome, 
310.  They  are  avoided  and  are  not  lieard,  311.  They  never  gain  belief,  312. 
Talkativeness  often  results  from  drunkenness,  313.  Silence  is  often  a  great  vir¬ 
tue;  anecdote  of  Zeno  at  a  feast,  314.  Loquacity  shows  great  want  of  good 
breeding,  316.  It  exposes  to  great  danger,  317.  It  gave  Athens  into  the  power 
of  Sylla,  317.  It  prolonged  the  tyranny  of  Nero,  317,  318.  The  noble  tacitur¬ 
nity  of  Leaena,  318,  319.  Secrets  are  not  to  be  revealed,  even  to  our  most  inti¬ 
mate  friends,  321,  322.  Anecdote  of  a  Roman  senator  and  his  wife,  322,  323. 
Mischiefs  of  a  vain  curiosity,  325.  Loquacious  men  destroy  themselves,  327. 
Anecdote  of  Dionysius  and  a  barber,  327  Of  an  Athenian  barber,  327,  328.  Of 
one  who  robbed  the  temple  of  Minerva,  328.  Of  the  murderers  of  Ibycus,  329. 
Great  peril  of  an  unbridled  tongue,  329.  A  tell-tale  is  often  a  traitor,  330.  To 
cure  ourselves  of  so  vile  a  habit,  consider  the  mischiefs  which  arise  from  it,  331. 
Study  conciseness  of  speech  :  imitate  the  Spartan  brevity,  332.  When  in  com¬ 
pany  questions  are  asked,  keep  silence  till  all  the  rest  have  refused  to  answer, 
334,  335.  Be  not  hasty  to  answer  questions  that  are  intended  to  ensnare  you,  336. 
When  the  questioner  really  desires  information,  letdhere  be  a  pause  between  the 
question  and  the  answer,  336.  Three  sorts  of  answers  to  questions,  —  the  neces¬ 
sary,  the  polite,  the  superfluous,  337.  Beware  of  the  third  sort,  338.  Beware  of 
talking  on  favorite  subjects,  and  of  matters  relating  to  your  profession,  339,  340. 
Before  you  speak,  consider  what  advantage  may  arise  from  speaking,  and  what 
mischief  from  holding  your  peace,  342. 

\ 

LIVES  OF  THE  TEN  ORATORS. 

1.  Antiphon,  343-347.  2.  Andocides,  347-349.  3.  Lysias,  350-352.  4.  Isocrates, 
353-359.  5.  Isaeus,  359.  6.  Aeschines,  360-302.  7.  Lycurgus,  362-368. 

8.  Demosther^es,  369-379.  9.  Hyperides,  379-383.  10.  Dinarchus,  383,  384. 
Decrees  proposed  to  the  Athenians  for  statues  to  be  set  up  to  Demosthenes, 
384-389. 


OF  FATE. 

Fate  is  either  (1)  an  energy,  a  law,  an  act,  390  ;  or  (2)  a  substance,  the  soul  of  the 
world,  391.  Though  compreb.ending  infinite,  it  is  itself  finite,  for  law  is  in  its 
nature  finite,  391,  392.  Every  thing  moves  in  a  circle  ;  all  beings  and  all  actions 
that  now  exist  will  come  around  again  :  we  shall  again  do  what  we  are  now  doing, 
and  in  the  same  manner,  392.  Fate,  the  Divine  Law,  the  Law  of  Nature,  deter¬ 
mines  all  things,  393.  It  determines  both  conditionally  and  universally,  394. 
What  relation  has  Fate  to  Divine  Providence  7  what  to  fortune?  what  to  human 
ability  7  what  to  contingent  events  7  395.  As  the  civil  law  comprehends  and  re- 


XXX 


CONTENTS. 


lates  to  many  things  which  are  not  lawful,  so  it  is  with  Fate,  395*.  The  words 
possfible  and  contingent  defined ;  also  power,  necessitjj,  &c.,  396,  397.  Of  causes : 

•  some  are  causes  per  se,  others  are  causes  by  accident,  398.  Fortune  is  a  cause 
by  accident,  399.  Fortune  is  not  the  same  thing  as  Chance,  though  Chance  com¬ 
prehends  Fortune,  400.  Fortune  relates  to  men  only  ;  Chance  includes  things 
animate  and  inanimate,  400.  Of  Divine  Providence  :  (1)  the  will  of  the  Supreme 
Deity  ;  (2)  the  will  of  the  subordinate  deities  ;  (3)  the  will  of  the  Daemons,  401. 
Of  the  Providence  of  the  Supreme  God,  402.  Of  the  Providence  of  the  inferior 
gods,  403.  Of  the  Providence  of  the  Daemons,  404,  405. 

PLUTARCH’S  CONSOLATORY  LETTER  TO  HIS  WIFE. 

He  counsels  patience,  406.  The  child  was  affectionate  and  interesting  ;  her  memory 
should  be  cherished,  407.  The  mother  is  commended  for  controlling  her  grief ; 
excessive  grief  is  unreasonable,  408.  The  mother’s  admirable  conduct  on  the 
previous  death  of  her  eldest  son,  409.  Women  are  frantic  with  joy  at  the  birth 
of  their  children,  and  mourn  excessively  at  their  death,  409,  410.  The  body 
should  not  suffer  through  grief,  410.  Women  , nourish  and  increase  the  grief  of 
bereaved  wives  and  mothers,  by  their  tears  and  lamentations  when  visiting  them  ; 
Plutarch  does  not  fear  this  in  the  present  case,  410.  We  should  remember  the 
pleasure  our  deceased  child  has  afforded  us,  411.  True  happiness  arises  from  the 
mind  itself,  and  not  from  external  circumstances,  412.  You  have  much  left  to 
comfort  you,  412.  State  of  the  soul  after  death  ;  the  soul  will  return  to  earth  in 
a  new  body ;  an  early  death  is  desirable,  413,  414. 

AGAINST  RUNNING  IN  DEBT,  OR  TAKING  UP  MONEY  UPON  USURY. 

Running  in  debt  should  not  be  resorted  to  but  in  the  last  necessity,  415.  To  avoid 
it,  practise  the  closest  economy,  416.  The  borrower  is  slave  to  the  lender,  417, 
418.  Usurers  are  chargeable  with  oppression,  fraud,  and  falsehood,  419,  420. 
They  take  a  man’s  money  without  an  equivalent,  420.  It  is  shameful  to  be  in 
the  power  of  another,  421.  We  incur  debt,  not  to  procure  necessaries,  but  to 
purchase  ornaments  and  superfluities,  423.  We  must  avoid  the  usurer  or  be 
ruined,  424-427. 

LACONIC  APOPHTHEGMS;  OR  REMARKABLE  SAYINGS  OF  THE 

SPARTANS,  428-483. 


THE  APOPHTHEGMS  OR  REMARKABLE  SAYINGS  OF  KINGS  AND 

GREAT  COMMANDERS,  484-549. 


PLUTARCH’S  ESSAYS. 


CONCERNING  THE  CURE  OF  ANGER. 


A  DIALOGUE. 


.  SYLLA,  FUNDANUS. 

1.  Sylla.  Those  painters,  O  Fundanus,  in  my  opinion  do 
very  wisely,  who  never  finish  any  piece  at  the  first  sitting, 
hut  take  a  review  of  it  at  some  convenient  distance  of  time  ; 
because  the  eye,  being  relieved  for  a  time,  renews  its  power 
by  making  frequent  and  fresh  judgments,  and  becomes  able 
to  observe  many  small  and  critical  differences  which  con¬ 
tinual  poring  and  familiarity  would  prevent  it  from  notic¬ 
ing.  Now,  because  it  cannot  be  that  a  man  should  stand 
off  from  himself  and  interrupt  his  consciousness,  and  then 
after  some  interval  return  to  accost  himself  again  (which  is 
one  principal  reason  why  a  man  is  a  worse  judge  of  him¬ 
self  than  of  other  men),  the  next  best  course  that  a  man 
can  take  will  be  to  inspect  his  friends  after  some  time 
of  absence,  and  also  to  offer  himself  to  their  examination, 
not  to  see  whether  he  be  grown  old  on  the  sudden,  or 
whether  the  habit  of  his  body  be  become  better  or  worse 
than  it  was  before,  but  that  they  may  take  notice  of  his 
manner  and  behavior,  whether  in  that  time  he  hath  made 
any  advance  in  goodness,  or  gained  ground  of  his  vices. 
Wherefore,  being  after  two  years’  absence  returned  to 
Rome,  and  having  since  conversed  with  thee  here  again 
for  these  five  months,  1  think  it  no  great  matter  of  wonder 
that  those  good  qualities  which,  by  the  advantage  of  a 
good  natural  disposition,  yon  were  formerly  possessed  of 


2 


CONCERNING  THE  CURE  OF  ANGER. 


have  in  this  time  received  so  considerable  an  increase. 
But  truly,  when  I  behold  how  that  vehement  and  fiery  dis¬ 
position  which  you  had  to  anger  is  now  through  the  con¬ 
duct  of  reason  become  so  gentle  and  tractable,  my  mind 
prompts  me  to  say,  with  Homer,  — 

O  wonder !  how  much  gentler  is  he  grown  !  * 

Nor  hath  this  gentleness  produced  in  thee  any  laziness 
or  irresolution ;  but,  like  cultivation  in  the  earth,  it  hath 
caused  an  evenness  and  a  profundity  very  effectual  unto 
fruitful  action,  instead  of  thy  former  vehemency  and  over¬ 
eagerness.  And  therefore  it  is  evident  that  thy  former 
proneness  to  anger  hath  not  been  withered  in  thee  by  any 
decay  of  vigor  which  age  might  have  effected,  or  spontane¬ 
ously  ;  but  that  it  hath  been  cured  by  making  use  of  some 
mollifying  precepts. 

And  indeed,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  when- 1  heard  our 
friend  Eros  say  the  same  thing,  I  had  a  suspicion  that  he 
did  not  report  the  thing  as  it  was,  but  that  out  of  mere 
good-will  he  testified  those  things  of  you  which  ought  to 
be  found  in  every  good  and  virtuous  man.  And  yet  you 
know  he  cannot  be  easily  induced  to  depart  from  what  he 
judges  to  be  true,  in  order  to  favor  any  man.  But  now, 
truly,  as  I  acquit  him  of  having  therein  made  any  false 
report  of  thee,  so  I  desire  thee,  being  now  at  leisure  from 
thy  journey,  to  declare  unto  us  the  means  and  (as  it  were) 
the  medicine,  by  use  whereof  thou  hast  brought  thy  mind  to 
be  thus  manageable  and  natural,  thus  gentle  and  obedient 
unto  reason. 

Fundanus.  But  in  the  mean  while,  O  most  kind  Sylla, 
you  had  best  beware,  lest  you  also  through  affection  and 
friendship  may  be  somewhat  careless  in  making  an  esti¬ 
mate  of  my  affairs.  For  Eros,  having  himself  also  a  mind 
oft-times  unable  to  keep  its  ground  and  to  contain  itself 

♦  II.  XXII.  373. 


CONCERNING  THE  CURE  OF  ANGER. 


3 


within  that  obedience  which  Homer  mentions,  but  subject 
to  be  exasperated  through  an  hatred  of  men’s  wickedness, 
may  perhaps  think  I  am  grown  more  mild  ;  just  as  in 
music;  when  the  key  is  changed,  that  note  which  before 
was  the  base  becomes  a  higher  note  with  respect  to  oth¬ 
ers  which  are  now  below  it. 

Sylla.  [N^either  of  these  is  so,  Fundanus;  but,  I  pray 
you,  gratify  us  all  by  granting  the  request  I  made. 

2.  Fundanus.  This  then,  O  Sylla,  is  one  of  those 
excellent  rules  given  by  Musonius  which  I  bear  in  memo¬ 
ry, — that  those  who  would  be  in  sound  health  must  physic 
themselves  all  their  lives.  Now  I  do  not  think  that  reason 
cures,  like  hellebore,  by  purging  out  itself  together  with 
the  disease  it  cures,  but  by  keeping  possession  of  the  soul, 
and  so  governing  and  guarding  its  judgments.  For  the 
power  of  reason  is  not  like  drugs,  but  like  wholesome  food  ; 
and,  with  the  assistance  of  a  good  natural  disposition,  it 
produceth  a  healthful  constitution  in  all  with  whom  it  hath 
become  familiar. 

And  as  for  those  good  exhortations  and  admonitions 
which  are  applied  to  passions  while  they  swell  and  are  at 
their  height,  they  work  but  slowly  and  with  small  success  ; 
and  they  differ  in  nothing  from  those  strong- smelling  things, 
which  indeed  do  serve  to  put  those  that  have  the  falling 
sickness  upon  their  legs  again  after  they  are  fallen,  but 
are  not  able  to  remove  the  disease.  For  whereas  other 
passions,  even  when  they  are  in  their  ruff  and  acme,  do  in 
some  sort  yield  and  admit  reason  into  the  soul,  which 
comes  to  help  it  from  without ;  anger  does  not,  as  Mela^ 
thins  says, — 

Displace  the  mind,  and  then  act  dismal  things  ; 

but  it  absolutely  tu/ns  the  mind  out  of  doors,  and  bolts 
the  door  against  it ;  and,  like  those  who  burn  their  houses 
and  themselves  within  them,  it  makes  all  things  within  full 


4 


CONCERNING  THE  CURE  OF  ANGER. 


of  confusion,  smoke,  and  noise,  so  that  the  soul  can  neither 
see  nor  hear  any  thing  that  might  relieve  it.  Wherefore 
sooner  will  an  empty  ship  in  a  storm  at  sea  admit  of  a  pilot 
from  without,  than  a  man  tossed  with  anger  and  rage 
listen  to  the  advice  of  another,  unless  he  have  his  own 
reason  first  prepared  to  entertain  it. 

But  as  those  who  expect  to  be  besieged  are  wont  to 
gather  together  and  lay  in  provisions  of  such  things  as 
they  are  like  to  need,  not  trusting  to  hopes  of  relief 
from  without,  so  ought  it  to  be  our  special  concern  to  fetch 
in  from  philosophy  such  foreign  helps  as  it  affords  against 
anger,  and  to  store  them  up  in  the  soul  beforehand,  seeing 
that  it  will  not  be  so  easy  a  matter  to  provide  ourselves 
when  the  time  is  come  for  using  them.  For  either  the  soul 
cannot  hear  what  is  spoken  without,  by  reason,  of  the 
tumult,  unless  it  have  its  own  reason  (like  the  director  of 
the  rowers  in  a  ship)  ready  to  entertain  and  understand 
whatsoever  precept  shall  be  given ;  or,  if  it  do  chance  to 
hear,  yet  will  it  be  ready  to  despise  what  is  patiently  and 
mildly  offered,  and  to  be  exasperated  by  what  shall  be 
pressed  upon  it  with  more  vehemency.  For,  since  wrath 
is  proud  and  self-conceited,  and  utterly  averse  from  compli¬ 
ance  with  others,  like  a  fortified  and  guarded  tyranny,  that 
which  is  to  overthrow  it  must  be  bred  within  it  and  be  of 
its  own  household. 

3.  Now  the  continuance  of  anger  and  frequent  fits  of  it 
produce  an  evil  habit  in  the  soul  called  wrathfulness,  or  a 
’"’’^pensity  to  be  angry,  which  oft-times  ends  in  choleric 
[per,  bitterness,  and  moroseness.  Then  the  mind  be- 


^knes  ulcerated,  peevish,  and  querulous,  and  like  a  thin, 
weak  plate  of  iron,  receives  impression  and  is  wounded  by 
even  the  least  occurrence ;  but  when  the  judgment  pres¬ 
ently  seizes  upon  wrathful  ebullitions  and  suppresses  them, 
it  not  only  works  a  cure  for  the  present,  but  renders  the 
soul  firm  and  not  so  liable  to  such  impressions  for  the  fu- 


CONCERNING  THE  CURE  OF  ANGER. 


5 


hire.  And  truly,  when  I  myself  had  twice  or  thrice  made 
a  resolute  resistance  unto  anger,  the  like  befell  me  that  did 
the  Thebans  ;  who,  having  once  foiled  the  Lacedaemonians, 
that  before  that  time  had  held  themselves  invincible,  never 
after  lost  so  much  as  one  battle  which  they  fought  against 
them.  For  I  became  fully  assured  in  my  mind,  that  anger 
might  be  overcome  by  the  use  of  reason.  And  I  perceived 
that  it  might  not  only  be  quieted  by  the  sprinkling  of  cold 
water,  as  Aristotle  relates,  but  also  be  extinguished  by  put¬ 
ting  one  into  a  fright.  Yea,  according  to  Homer,  many 
men  have  had  their  anger  melted  and  dissipated  by  sudden 
surprise  of  joy.  So  that  I  came  to  this  firm  resolution, 
that  this  passion  is  not  altogether  incurable  to  such  as  are 
but  willing  to  be  cured ;  since  the  beginnings  and  occa¬ 
sions  of  it  are  not  always  great  or  forcible ;  but  a  scoff,  or 
a  jest,  or  the  laughing  at  one,  or  a  nod  only,  or  some  other 
matter  of  no  great  importance,  will  put  many  men  into  a 
passion.  Thus  Helen,  by  addressing  her  niece  in  the 
words  beginning,  — 

O  my  Electra,  now  a  virgin  stale, 

provoked  her  to  make  this  nipping  return :  — 

Thou’rt  wise  too  late,  thou  shouldst  have  kept  at  home.* 

And  so  did  Callisthenes  provoke  Alexander  by  saying, 
when  the  great  bowl  was  going  round,  I  will  not  drink  so 
deep  in  honor  of  Alexander,  as  to  make  work  for  Aescu¬ 
lapius. 

4.  As  therefore  it  is  an  easy  matter  to  stop  the  fire  that 
is  kindled  only  in  hare’s  wool,  candle-wick,  or  a  little  chaff, 
but  if  it  have  once  taken  hold  of  matter  that  hath  solidity 
and  thickness,  it  soon  inflames  and  consumes,  as  Aeschylus 
says, — 

With  youthful  vigor  the  carpenter's  lofty  work ; 

SO  he  that  observes  anger  while  it  is  in  its  beginning,  and 


*  Eurip.  Orestes,  72  and  99 


6 


CONCERNING  THE  CURE  OF  ANGER. 


sees  it  by  degrees  smoking  and  .taking  tire  from  some 
speech  or  chaff-like  scurrility,  need  take  no  great  pains  to 
extinguish  it,  but  oftentimes  can  put  an  end  to  it  only  by 
silence  or  neglect.  For  as  he  that  adds  no  fuel  to  the  tire 
hath  already  as  good  as  put  it  out,  so  he  that  doth  not  feed 
anger  at  the  first,  nor  blow  the  tire  in  himself,  hath  pre¬ 
vented  and  destroyed  it.  Wherefore  Hieronymus,  although 
he  taught  many  other  useful  things,  yet  hath  given  me  no 
satisfaction  in  saying  that  anger  is  not  perceptible  in  its 
birth,  by  reason  of  its  suddenness,  but  only  after  its  birth 
and  while  it  lives  ;  for  there  is  no  other  passion,  while  it  is 
gathering  and  stirring  up,  which  hath  its  rise  and  increase 
so  conspicuous  and  observable.  This  is  very  skilfully 
taught  by  Homer,  by  making  Achilles  suddenly  surprised 
with  grief  as  soon  as  ever  the  word  fell  on  his  ear,  saying 
of  him, — 

This  said,  a  sable  cloud  of  grief  covered  him  o’er ;  * 

but  making  Agamemnon  grow  angry  slowly  and  need  many 
words  to  inflame  him,  so  that,  if  these  had  been  stopped 
and  forbidden  when  they  began,  the  contest  had  never 
grown  to  that  degree  and  greatness  which  it  did.  Where¬ 
fore  Socrates,  as  oft  as  he  perceived  any  fierceness  of  spirit 
to  rise  within  him  towards  any  of  his  friends,  setting  him¬ 
self  like  a  promontory  to  break  the  waves,  would  speak 
with  a  lower  voice,  bear  a  smiling  countenance,  and  look 
with^  more  gentle  eye  ;  and  thus,  by  bending  the  other  way 
and  moving  contrary  to  the  passion,  he  kept  himself  from 
falling  or  being  worsted. 

5.  For  the  first  way,  my  friend,  to  suppress  anger,  as 
you  would  a  tyrant,  is  not  to '  obey  or  yield  to  it  when  it 
commands  us  to  speak  high,  to  look  fiercely,  and  to  beat 
ourselves  ;  but  to  be  quiet,  and  not  increase  the  passion,  as 
we  do  a  disease,  by  impatient  tossing  and  crying  out.  It  is 


*  H.  XVII.  591. 


CONCERNING  THE  CURE  OF  ANGER.  / 

ti*ue  that  lovers’  practices,  such  as  revelling,  singing,  crown¬ 
ing  the  door  with  garlands,  have  a  kind  of  alleviation  in 
them  which  is  neither  rude  nor  unpleasing :  — 

Coming,  I  asked  not  who  or  whose  she  was, 

But  kissed  her  door  full  ssveetly,  — that  I  wot  ; 

If  this  be  sin,  to  sin  I  can  but  choose. 

So  the  weeping  and  lamentation  which  we  permit  in  mourn¬ 
ers  doubtless  carry  forth  much  of  the  grief  together  with 
the  tears.  But  anger,  quite  on  the  contrary,  is  more  in¬ 
flamed  by  what  the  angry  persons  say  or  do. 

The  best  course  then  is  for  a  man  to  compose  himself, 
or  else  to  run  away  and  hide  himselt*  and  retreat  into  quiet, 
as  into  an  haven,  as  if  he  perceived  a  fit  of  epilepsy  com¬ 
ing  on,  lest  he  fall,  or  rather  fall  upon  others ;  and  truly 
we  do  most  and  most  frequently  fall  upon  our  friends. 
For  we  neither  love  all,  nor  envy  all,  nor  fear  all  men ; 
but  there  is  nothing  untouched  and  unset  upon  by  anger. 
We  are  angry  with  our  foes  and  with  our  friends  ;  with  our 
own  children  and  our  parents ;  nay,  with  the  Gods  above, 
and  the  very  beasts  below  us,  and  instruments  that  have  no 
life,  as  Thamyras  was,  — 

His  horn,  though  bound  with  gold,  he  brake  in’s  ire, 

He  brake  his  melodious  and  well-strung  lyre  ;  * 

and  Pandarus,  wishing  a  curse  upon  himself  if  he  did  not 
burn  his  bow, 

First  broken  by  his  hands.f 

But  Xerxes  dealt  blows  and  marks  of  his  displeasure  to 
the  sea  itself,  and  sent  his  letters  to  the  mountain  in  the 
style  ensuing :  O  thou  wretched  Athos,  whose  top  now 
reaches  to  the  skies,  I  charge  thee,  put  not  in  the  way  of 
my  works  stones  too  big  and  difficult  to  be  wrought.  If 
thou  do,  I  will  cut  thee  into  pieces,  and  cast  thee  into,  the 
sea.” 

For  anger  hath  many  terrible  effects,  and  many  also  that 

•  From  the  Tliamyras  of  Sophocles,  Frag.  224.  t  II.  V.  216 


8 


CONCERNING  THE  CURE  OF  ANGER. 


are  ridiculous  ;  and  therefore  of  all  passions,  this  of  anger 
is  most  hated  and  most  contemned,  and  it  is  good  to  con¬ 
sider  it  in  both  respects. 

6.  I  therefore,  whether  rightly  or  not  I  know  not, 
began  this  cure  with  learning  the  nature  of  anger  by  be¬ 
holding  it  in  other  men,  as  the  Lacedaemonians  learned  what 
drunkenness  was  by  seeing  it  in  the  Helots.  And,  in  the 
lirst  place,  as  Hippocrates  said  that  that -was  the  most  dan¬ 
gerous  disease  which  made  the  sick  man’s  countenance 
most  unlike  to  what  it  was,  so  I  observed  that  men  trans¬ 
ported  with  anger  also  exceedingly  change  their  visage, 
color,  gait,  and  voice.  Accordingly  I  formed  a  kind  of 
image  of  that  passion  to  myself,  withal  conceiving  great  in 
dignation  against  myself  if  I  should  at  any  time  appear  to 
my  friends,  or  to  my  wife  and  daughters,  so  terrible  and  dis¬ 
composed,  not  only  with  so  wild  and  strange  a  look,  but  also 
with  so  fierce  and  harsh  a  voice,  as  I  had  met  with  in  some 
others  of  my  acquaintance,  who  by  reason  of  anger  were 
not  able  to  observe  either  good  manners  or  countenance  or 
graceful  speech,  or  even  their  persuasiveness  and  affability 
in  conversation. 

Wherefore  Cains  Gracchus,  the  orator,  being  of  a  rugged 
disposition  and  a  passionate  kind  of  speaker,  had  a  pipe 
made  for  him,  such  as  musicians  use  to  vary  their  voice 
higher  or  lower  by  degrees ;  and  with  this  pipe  his  ser¬ 
vant  stood  behind  him  while  he  pronounced,  and  gave  him 
a  mild  and  gentle  note,  whereby  he  took  him  down  from 
his  loudness,  and  took  off  the  harshness  and  angriness  of 
his  voice,  assuaging  and  charming  the  anger  of  the  orator, 

As  their  shrill  wax-joined  reed  who  herds  do  keep 

Sounds  forth  sweet  measures,  which  invite  to  sleep.  * 

For  my  own  part,  had  I  a  careful  and  pleasant  compan¬ 
ion  who  would  show  me  my  angry  face  in  a  glass,  I  should 
not  at  all  take  it  ill.  In  like  manner,  some  are  wont  to 


*  Aesch.  Prometheus,  574. 


CONCERNING  THE  CURE  OF  ANGER. 


9 


have  a  looking-glass  held  to  them  after  they  have  bathed, 
though  to  little  purpose  ;  but  to  behold  one’s  self  unnaturally 
disguised  and  disordered  will  conduce  not  a  little  to  the 
impeachment  of  anger.  For  those  who  delight  in  pleas¬ 
ant  fables  tell  us^  that  Minerva  herself,  playing  on  a  pipe, 
was  thus  admonished  by  a  satyr :  — 

That  look  becomes  you  not,  lay  down  your  pipes. 

And  take  your  arms,  and  set  your  cheeks  to  rights  ; 

but  would  not  regard  it ;  yet,  when  by  chance  she  beheld 
the  mien  of  her  countenance  in  a  river,  she  was  moved  with 
indignation,  and  cast  her  pipes  away ;  and  yet  here  art  had 
the  delight  of  melody  to  comfort  her  for  the  deformity. 
And  Marsyas,  as  it  seems,  did  with  a  kind  of  muzzle  and 
mouth-piece  restrain  by  force  the  too  horrible  eruption  of 
his  breath  when  he  played,  and  so  corrected  and  concealed 
the  distortion  of  his  visage :  — 

With  shining  gold  he  girt  his  temples  rough, 

And  his  wide  mouth  with  thongs  that  tied  behind. 

Now  anger  doth  swell  and  puif  up  the  countenance  very  in¬ 
decently,  and  sends  forth  a  yet  more  indecent  and  unpleasant 
voice, — 

Moving  the  heart-strings,  which  should  be  at  rest. 

For  when  the  sea  is  tossed  and  troubled  with  winds, 
and  casts  up  moss  and  sea- weed,  they  say  it  is  purged  ;  but 
those  impure,  bitter,  and  vain  words  which  anger  throws  up 
when  the  soul  has  become  a  kind  of  whirlpool,  defile  the 
speakers,  in  the  first  place,  and  fill  them  with  dishonor,  ar¬ 
guing  them  to  have  always  had  such  things  in  them  and 
to  be  full  of  them,  only  now  they  are  discovered  to  have  them 
by  their  anger.  So  for  a  mere  word,  the  lightest  of  things  (as 
Plato  says),  they  undergo  the  heaviest  of  punishments,  being 
ever  after  accounted  enemies,  evil  speakers,  and  of  a  ma¬ 
lignant  disposition. 

7.  While  now  I  see  all  this  and  bear  it  in  mind,  the 


10 


CONCERNING  THE  CURE  OF  ANGER, 


thought  occurs  to  me,  and  I  naturally  consider  by  myself, 
that  as  it  is  good  for  one  in  a  fever,  so  much  better  is  it  for 
one  in  anger,  to  have  his  tongue  soft  and  smooth.  For  if 
the  tongue  in  a  fever  be  unnaturally  affected,  it  is  indeed  an 
evil  symptom,  but  not  a  cause  of  harm ;  but  when  the 
tongue  of  angry  men  becomes  rough  and  foul,  and  breaks 
out  into  absurd  speeches,  it  produces  insults  which  work  ir¬ 
reconcilable  hatred,  and  proves  that  a  poisonous  malevo¬ 
lence  lies  festering  within.  For  wine  does  not  make  men 
vent  any  thing  so  impure  and  odious  as  anger  doth ;  and, 
besides,  what  proceeds  from  wine  is  matter  for  jest  and 
laughter,  but  that  from  anger  is  mixed  with  gall  and  bitter¬ 
ness.  And  he  that  is  silent  in  his  cups  is  counted  a  burthen, 
and  a  bore  to  the  company,  whereas  in  anger  there  is 
nothing  more  commended  than  peace  and  silence ;  as 
Sappho  adviseth, — 

When  anger  once  is  spread  within  thy  breast, 

Shut  up  thy  tongue,  that  vainly  barking  beast. 

8.  Nor  doth  the  constant  observation  of  ourselves  in 
anger  minister  these  things  only  to  our  consideration,  but 
it  also  gives  us  to  understand  another  natural  property  of 
anger,  how  disingenuous  and  unmanly  a  thing  it  is,  and 
how  far  from  true  wisdom  and  greatness  of  mind.  Yet  the 
vulgar  account  the  angry  man’s  turbulence  to  be  his  activity, 
his  loud  threats  to  argue  boldness,  and  his  refractoriness 
strength ;  as  also  some  mistake  his  cruelty  for  an  under¬ 
taking  of  great  matters,  his  implacableness  for  a  firmness 
of  resolution,  and  his  morosity  for  an  hatred  of  that  which 
is  evil.  For,  in  truth,  both  the  deeds  and  motions  and  the 
whole  mien  of  angry  men  do  accuse  them  of  much  little¬ 
ness  and  infirmity,  not  only  when  they  vex  little  children, 
scold  silly  women,  and  think  dogs  and  horses  and  asses 
worthy  of  their  anger  and  deserving  to  be  punished  (as 
Ctesiphon  the  Pancratiast,  who  vouchsafed  to  kick  the  ass 


CONCERNING  THE  CURE  OF  ANGER. 


11 


that  had  kicked  him  first)  ;  but  even  in  their  tyrannical 
slaughters,  their  mean-spiritedness  appearing  in  their 
bitterness,  and  their  suffering  exhibited  outwardly  in  their 
actions,  are  but  like  to  the  biting  of  serpents  who,  when 
they  themselves  become  burnt  and  full  of  pain,  violently 
thrust  the  venom  that  inflames  them  from  themselves  into 
those  that  have  hurt  them.  For  as  a  great  blow  causes  a 
great  swelling  in  the  flesh,  so  in  the  softest  souls  the  giving 
way  to  a  passion  for  hurting  others,  like  a  stroke  on  the 
soul,  doth  make  it  to  swell  with  anger ;  and  all  the  more, 
the  greater  is  its  weakness. 

For  this  cause  it  is  that  women  are  more  apt  to  be  angry 
than  men  are,  and  sick  persons  than  the  healthful,  and  old 
men  than  those  who  are  in  their  perfect  age  and  strength, 
and  men  in  misery  than  such  as  prosper.  For  the  covetous 
man  is  most  prone  to  be  angry  with  his  steward,  the  glutton 
with  his  cook,  the  jealous  man  with  his  wife,  the  vain¬ 
glorious  person  with  him  that  speaks  ill  of  him  ;  but  of  all 
men  there  are  none  so  exceedingly  disposed  to  be  angry  as 
those  who  are  ambitious  of  honor,  and  affect  to  carry  on  a 
fiction  in  a  city,  which  (according  to  Pindar)  is  but  a 
splendid  vexation.  In  like  manner,  from  the  great  grief 
and  suffering  of  the  soul,  through  weakness  especially,  there 
ariseth  anger,  which  is  not  like  the  nerves  of  the  soul  (as 
one  spake),  but  like  its  straining  and  convulsive  motions 
when  it  vehemently  stirs  itself  up  in  its  desires  and  endeav¬ 
ors  of  revenge. 

9.  Indeed  such  evil  examples  as  these  afford  us  specula¬ 
tions  which  are  necessary,  though  not  pleasant.  But  now, 
from  those  who  have  carried  themselves  mildly  and  gently 
in  their  anger,  I  shall  present  you  with  most  excellent 
sayings  and  beautiful  contemplations ;  and  I  begin  to  con¬ 
temn  such  as  say.  You  have  wronged  a  man  indeed,  and  is 
a  man  to  bear  this  ]  —  Stamp  on  his  neck,  tread  him  down 
in  the  dirt,  —  and  such  like  provoking  speeches,  where- 


12 


CONCERNING  THE  CURif  OF  ANGER. 


by  some  do  very  unhandsomely  translate  and  remove  anger 
from  the  women’s  to  the  men’s  apartment.  For  fortitude, 
which  in  other  respects  agrees  with  justice,  seems  only  to 
disagree  in  respect  of  mildness,  which  she  claims  as  more 
properly  her  own.  For  it  sometimes  befalls 'even  worsef 
men  to  bear  rule  over  those  who  are  better  than  them¬ 
selves  ;  but  to  erect  a  trophy  in  the  soul  against  anger 
(which  Heraclitus  says  it  is  an  hard  thing  to  tight  against, 
because  whatever  it  resolves  to  have,  it  buys  at  no  less  a 
price  than  the  soul  itself )  is  that  which  none  but  a  great 
and  victorious  power  is  able  to  achieve,  since  that  alone 
can  bind  and  curb  the  passions  by  its  decrees,  as  with 
nerves  and  tendons. 

Wherefore  I  always  strive  to  collect  and  read  not  only 
the  sayings  and  deeds  of  philosophers,  who  (wise  men  say) 
had  no  gall  in  them,  but  especially  those  of  kings  and 
tyrants.  Of  this  sort  was  the  saying  of  Antigonus  to  his 
soldiers,  when,  as  some  were  reviling  him  near  his  tent, 
supposing  that  he  had  not  heard  them,  he  stretched  his 
staff  out  of  the  tent,  and  said :  What !  will  you  not  stand 
somewhere  farther  off,  while  you  revile  me  ?  So  was  that 
of  Arcadio  the  Achaean,  who  was  ever  speaking  ill  of  Philip, 
exhorting  men  to  flee 

Till  they  should  come  where  none  would  Philip  know. 

When  afterwards  by  some  accident  he  appeared  in  Mace¬ 
donia,  Philip’s  friends  were  of  opinion  that  he  ought 
not  to  be  suffered,  but  be  punished  ;  but  Philip  meeting 
him  and  speaking  courteously  to  him,  and  then  sending 
him  gifts,  particularly  such  as  were  wont  to  be  given  to 
strangers,  bade  him  learn  for  the  time  to  come  what  to 
speak  of  him  to  the  Greeks.  And  when  all  testified  that 
the  man  was  become  a  great  praiser  of  Philip,  even  to  ad¬ 
miration,  You  see,  said  Philip,  I  am  a  better  physician 
than  you.  And  when  he  had  been  reproached  at  the 


CONCERNING  THE  CUKE  OF  ANGER.  13 

Olympic  solemnities,  and  some  said  it  was  fit  to  make  the 
Grecians  smart  and  rue  it  for  reviling  Philip,  who  had 
dealt  well  with  them.  What  then,  said  he,  will  they  do, 
if  I  make  them  smart  ?  Those  things  also  which  Pisistra- 
tus  did  to  Thrasybulus,  and  Porsena  to  Mutius,  were 
bravely  done ;  and  so  was  that  of  Magas  to  Philemon,  for 
having  been  by  him  exposed  to  laughter  in  a  comedy  on 
the  public  stage,  in  these  words :  — 

Magas,  the  king  hath  sent  thee  letters  : 

Unhappy  Magas,  thou  dost  know  no  letters. 

And  having  taken  Philemon  as  he  was  by  a  tempest  cast 
on  shore  at  Paraetonium,  he  commanded  a  soldier  only  to 
touch  his  neck  with  his  naked  sword  and  to  go  quietly  away ; 
and  then  having  sent  him  a  ball  and  huckle-bones,  as  if  he 
were  a  child  that  wanted  understanding,  he  dismissed  him. 
Ptolemy  was  once  jeering”  a  grammarian  for  his  want  of 
learning,  and  asked  him  who  was  the  father  of  Peleus :  I 
will  answer  you  (quoth  he)  if  you  will  tell  me  first  who  was 
the  father  of  Lagus.  This  jeer  gave  the  king  a  rub  for 
the  obscurity  of  his  birth,  whereat  all  were  moved  with 
indignation,  as  a  thing  not  to  be  endured.  But,  said  Pto¬ 
lemy,  if  it  is  not  fit  for  a  king  to  be  jeered,  then  no  more 
is  it  fit  for  him  to  jeer  others.  But  Alexander  was  more 
severe  than  he  was  wont  in  his  carriage  towards  Calisthenes 
and  Clitus.  Wherefore  Porus,  being  taken  captive  by 
him,  desired  him  to  treat  him  like  a  king ;  and  when 
Alexander  asked  him  if  he  desired  no  more,  he  answered. 
When  I  say  like  a  king,  I  have  comprised  all.  And  hence 
it  is  that  they  call  the  king  of  the  Gods  Meilichius,  while 
the  Athenians,  I  think,  call  him  Maimactes ;  but  the  ofiice 
of  punishing  they  ascribe  to  the  Furies  and  evil  Genii, 
never  giving  it  the  epithet  of  divine  or  heavenly. 

10.  As  therefore  one  said  of  Philip,  when  he  razed  the 
city  of  Olynthus,  But  he  is  not  able  to  build  such  another 


14 


CONCERNING  THE  CURE  OF  ANGER. 


city  ;  so  may  it  be  said  to  anger,  Thou  canst  overthrow,  and 
destroy,  and  cut  down  ;  but  to  restore,  to  save,  to  spare,  and 
to  bear  with,  is  the  work  of  gentleness  and  moderation,  of  a 
Camillus,  a  Metellus,  an  Aristides,  and  a  Socrates ;  but  to 
strike  the  sting  into  one  and  to  bite  is  the  part  of  pismires 
and  horse-flies.  And  truly,  while  I  well  consider  revenge,  I 
find  that  the  way  which  anger  takes  for  it  proves  for  the 
most  part  ineffectual,  being  spent  in  biting  the  lips,  gnash¬ 
ing  the  teeth,  vain  assaults,  and  railings  full  of  silly  threats  ; 
and  then  it  acts  like  children  in  a  race,  who,  for  want  of 
governing  themselves,  tumble  down  ridiculously  before 
they  come  to  the  goal  towards  which  they  are  has¬ 
tening.  Hence  that  Rhodian  said  not  amiss  to  the  servant 
of  the  Roman  general,  who  spake  loudly  and  fiercely  to 
him.  It  matters  not  much  what  thou  sayest,  but  what  this 
your  master  in  silence  thinks.  And  Sophocles,  having  in¬ 
troduced  Neoptolemus  and  Eurypylus  in  full  armor,  gave 
a  high  commendation  of  them  when  he  said,  — 

Into  the  hosts  of  brazen-armed  men 

Each  boldly  charged,  but  ne’er  reviled  his  foe. 

Some  indeed  of  the  barbarians  poison  their  swords  ;  but 
true  valor  has  no  need  of  choler,  as  being  dipped  in  reason  ; 
but  anger  and  fury  are  weak  and  easily  broken.  Where¬ 
fore  the  Lacedaemonians  are  wont  by  the  sounding  of 
pipes  to  take  off  the  edge  of  anger  from  their  soldiers, 
when  they  fight ;  and  before  they  go  to  battle,  to  sacrifice 
to  the  Muses,  that  they  may  have  the  steady  use  of  their 
reason  ;  and  when  they  have  put  their  enemies  to  flight, 
they  pursue  them  not,  but  sound  a  retreat  (as  it  were)  to 
their  wrath,  which,  like  a  short  dagger,  can  easily  be  lian- 
dled  and  drawn  back.  But  anger  makes  slaughter  of  thou¬ 
sands  before  it  can  avenge  itself,  as  it  did  of  Cyrus  and 
Pelopidas  the  Theban.  Agathocles,  being  reviled  by  some 
whom  he  besieged,  bore  it  with  mildness ;  and  when  one 


CONCERNING  THE  CURE  OF  ANGER. 


15 


said  to  him,  O  Potter,  whence  wilt  thou  have  pay  for  thy 
mercenary  soldiers?  he  answered  with  laughter.  From 
your  city,  if  I  can  take  it.  And  when  some  one  from  the 
wall  derided  Antigonus  for  his  deformity,  he  answered,  I 
thought  surely  1  had  a  handsome  face :  and  when  he  had 
taken  the  city,  he  sold  those  for  slaves  who  had  scoffed  at 
him,  protesting  that,  if  they  reviled  him  so  again,  he  would 
call  them  to  account  before  their  masters. 

Furthermore,  I  observe  that  hunters  and  orators  are  wont 
to  be  much  foiled  by  anger.  Aristotle  reports  that  the 
friends  of  Satyrus  once  stopped  his  ears  with  wax,  when 
lie  was  to  plead  a  cause,  that  so  he  might  not  confound 
the  matter  through  anger  at  the  revilings  of  his  enemies. 
Do  we  not  ourselves  oftentimes  miss  of  punishing  an 
offending  servant,  because  he  runs  away  from  us  in  fright 
when  he  hears  our  threatening  words?  That  therefore 
which  nurses  say  to  little  children  —  Do  not  cry,  and  thou 
shalt  have  it  —  may  not  unfitly  be  applied  to  our  mind 
when  angry.  Be  not  hasty,  neither  speak  too  loud,  nor  be 
too  urgent,  and  so  what  you  desire  Avill  be  sooner  and 
better  accomplished.  For  as  a  father,  when  he  sees  his 
son  about  to  cleave  or  cut  something  with  an  hatchet, 
takes  the  hatchet  himself  and  doth  it  for  him  ;'so  one 
taking  the  work  of  revenge  out  of  the  hand  of  anger  doth 
himself,  without  danger  or  hurt,  yea,  with  profit  also, 
inflict  punishment  on  him  that  deserves  it,  and  not  on  him¬ 
self  instead  of  him,  as  anger  oft-times  doth. 

11.  Now,  whereas  all  passions  do  stand  in  need  of  dis¬ 
cipline,  which  by  exercise  tames  and  subdues  their  un¬ 
reasonableness  and  stubbornness,  there  is  none  about  which 
we  have  more  need  to  be  exercised  in  reference  to  servants 
than  that  of  anger.  For  neither  do  we  envy  nor  fear  them, 
nor  have  we  any  competition  for  honor  with  them  ;  but  we 
have  frequent  fits  of  anger  with  them,  which  cause  many 
offences  and  errors,  by  reason  of  the  very  power  possessed 


16 


CONCERNING  THE  CURE  OF  ANGER. 


by  US  as  masters,  and  which  bring  us  easily  to  the  ground, 
as  if  we  stood  in  a  slippery  place  with  no  one  standing  by 
to  save  us.  For  it  is  impossible  to  keep  an  irresponsible 
power  from  offending  in  the  excitement  of  passion,  unless 
we  gird  up  that  great  power  with  gentleness,  and  can  slight 
the  frequent  speeches  of  wife  and  friends  accusing  us  of 
remissness.  And  indeed  I  myself  have  by  nothing  more 
than  by  such  speeches  been  incensed  against  my  servants, 
as  if  they  were  spoiled  for  want  of  beating.  And  truly  it 
was  late  before  I  came  to  understand,  that  it  was  better 
that  servants  should  be  something  the  worse  by  indulgence, 
than  that  one  should  distort  himself  through  wrath  and  bit¬ 
terness  for  the  amendment  of  others.  And  secondly,  observ¬ 
ing  that  many  by  this  very  impunity  have  been  brought  to 
be  ashamed  to  be  wicked,  and  have  begun  their  change  to 
virtue  more  from  being  pardoned  than  from  being  pun¬ 
ished,  and  that  they  have  obeyed  some  upon  their  nod  only, 
peaceably,  and  more  willingly  than  they  have  done  others 
with  all  their  beating  and  scourging,  I  became  persuaded 
of  this,  that  reason  w^as  fitter  to  govern  with  than  anger. 
For  it  is  not  as  the  poet  said,  — 

Wherever  fear  is,  there  is  modesty ; 

but,  on  the  contrary,  it  is  in  the  modest  that  that  fear  is  bred 
which  produces  moderation,  whereas  continual  and  unmerci¬ 
ful  beating  doth  not  make  men  repent  of  doing  evil,  but  only 
devise  plans  for  doing  it  without  being  detected.  And  in 
the  third  place  I  always  remember  and  consider  with  my¬ 
self,  that  as  he  who  taught  us  the  art  of  shooting  did  not 
forbid  us  to  shoot,  but  only  to  shoot  amiss,  so  no  more  can 
it  be  any  hindrance  from  punishing  to  teach  us  how  we 
may  do  it  seasonably  and  moderately,  with  benefit  and 
decency.  I  therefore  strive  to  put  away  anger,  especially 
by  not  denying  the  punished  a  liberty  to  plead  for  them¬ 
selves,  but  granting  them  an  hearing.  For  time  gives  a 


CONCERNING  THE  CURE  OF  ANGER. 


17 


breathing-space  unto  passion,  and  a  delay  which  mitigates 
and  dissolves  it ;  and  a  man’s  judgment  in  the  mean  while 
finds  out  both  a  becoming  manner  and  a  proportionable 
measure  of  punishing.  And  moreover  hereby,  he  that  is 
punished  hath  not  any  pretence  left  him  to  object  against 
the  correction  given  him,  if  he  is  punished  not  out  of 
anger,  but  being  first  himself  convinced  of  his  fault.  And 
finally  we  are  here  saved  from  the  greatest  disgrace  of  all, 
for  by  this  means  the  servant  will  not  seem  to  speak  more 
just  things  than  his  master. 

'  As  therefore  Phocion  after  the  death  of  Alexander,  to 
hinder  the  Athenians  from  rising  too  soon  or  believing  it 
too  hastily,  said :  O  Athenians,  if  he  is  dead  to-day,  he 
will  be  so  to-morrow,  and  on  the  next  day  after  that; 
in  like  manner  do  I  judge  one  ought  to  suggest  to  himself, 
who  through  anger  is  making  haste  to  punish :  If  it  is 
true  to-day  that  he  hath  thus  wronged  thee,  it  will  be  true 
.to-morrow,  and  on  the  next  day,  also.  Nor  will  there  any 
inconvenience  follow  upon  the  deferring  of  his  punishment 
for  a  while  ;  but  if  he  be  punished  all  in  haste,  he  will  ever 
after  seem  to  have  been  innocent,  as  it  hath  oftentimes  fallen 
out  heretofore.  For  which  of  us  all  is  so  cruel  as  to  torment 
or  scourge  a  servant  because,  five  or  ten  days  before,  he  burnt 
the  meat,  or  overturned  the  table,  or  did  not  soon  enough 
what  he  was  bidden  1  And  yet  it  is  for  just  such  things  as 
these,  while  they  are  fresh  and  newly  done,  that  we  are  so 
disordered,  and  become  cruel  and  implacable.  For  as 
bodies  through  a  mist,  so  actions  through  anger  seem  greater 
than  they  are.  Wherefore  we  ought  speedily  to  recall 
such  considerations  as  these  are  to  our  mind ;  and  when 
Ve  are  unquestionably  out  of  passion,  if  then  to  a  pure  and 
composed  reason  the  deed  do  appear  to  be  wicked,  we  ought 
to  animadvert,  and  no  longer  neglect  or  abstain  from  pun¬ 
ishment,  as  if  we  had  lost  our  appetite  for  it.  For  there  is 
nothing  to  which  we  can  more  justly  impute  men’s  punish- 


.18 


CONCERNING  THE  CURE  OF  ANGER. 


ing  others  ir^  their  anger,  than  to  a  habit  of  not  punishing 
them  when  their  anger  is  over,  but  growing  remiss,  and 
doing  like  lazy  mariners,  who  in  fair  weather  keep  loiter¬ 
ing  within  the  haven,  and  then  put  themselves  in  danger 
by  setting  sail  when  the  wind  blows  strong.  So  we  like¬ 
wise,  condemning  the  remissness  and  over-calmness  of  our 
reason  in  punishing,  make  haste  to  do  it  while  our  anger  is 
up,  pushing  us  forward  like  a  dangerous  wind. 

He  that  useth  food  doth  it  to  gratify  his  hunger,  which 
is  natural ;  but  he  that  inflicts  punishment  should  do  it 
without  either  hungering  or  thirsting  after  it,  not  needing 
anger,  like  sauce,  to  whet  him  on  to  punish  ;  but  when 
he  is  farthest  off  from  desiring  it,  then  he  should  do  it 
as  a  deed  of  necessity  under  the  guidance  of  reason. 
And  though  Aristotle  reports,  that  in  his  time  servants 
in  Etruria  were  wont  to  be  scourged  while  the  music 
played,  yet  they  who  punish  others  ought  not  to  be  carried 
on  with  a  desire  of  punishing,  as  of  a  thing  they  delight  in, 
nor  to  rejoice  when  they  punish,  and  then  repent  of  it  when 
they  have  done,  —  whereof  the  first  is  savage,  the  last 
womanish  ;  but,  without  either  sorrow  or  pleasure,  they 
should  inflict  just  punishment  when  reason  is  free  to  judge, 
leaving  no  pretence  for  anger  to  intermeddle. 

12.  But  this  perhaps  may  seem  to  be  not  a  cure  of 
anger,  but  only  a  thrusting  by  and  avoiding  of  such  mis¬ 
carriages  as  some  men  fall  into  when  they  are  angry.  And 
yet,  as  Hieronymus  tells  us,  although  the  swelling  of  the 
spleen  is  but  a  symptom  of  the  fever,  the  assuaging  thereof 
abates  the  disease.  But,  considering  well  the  origin  of 
anger  itself,  I  have  observed  that  divers  men  fall  into 
anger  for  different  causes ;  and  yet  in  the  minds  of  all 
of  them  was  probably  an  opinion  of  being  despised  and 
nedected.  We  must  therefore  assist  those  who  would 
avoid  anger,  by  removing  the  act  which  roused  their  anger 
as  far  as  possible  from  all  suspicion  of  contempt  or  insult, 


CONCERNING  THE  CURE  OF  ANGER. 


19 


and  by  imputing  it  rather  to  folly  or  necessity  or  disorder 
of  mind,  or  to  the  misadventure  of  those  that  did  it.  Thus 
Sophocles  in  Antigone  :  — 

The  best  resolved  mind  in  misery 
,  Can’t  keep  its  ground,  but  suffers  ecstasy.* 

And  so  Agamemnon,  ascribing  to  Ate  the  taking  away  of 
Briseis,  adds  :  — 

Since  I  so  foolish  was  as  thee  to  wrong, 

I’ll  please  thee  now,  and  give  thee  splendid  gifts.t 

For  supplication  is  an  act  of  one  who  is  far  from  con¬ 
temning  ;  and  when  he  that  hath  done  an  injury  appears 
submissive,  he  thereby  removes  all  suspicion  of  contempt. 
But  he  that  is  moved  to  anger  must  not  expect  or  wait  for 
such  a  submission,  but  must  rather  take  to  himself  the 
saying  of  Diogenes,  who,  when  one  said  to  him.  They  de¬ 
ride  thee,  O  Diogenes,  made  answer.  But  I  am  not  derided; 
and  he  must  not  think  himself  contemned,  but  rather  him¬ 
self  contemn  that  man  that  offends  him,  as  one  acting  out 
of  weakness  or  error,  rashness  or  carelessness,  rudeness  or 
dotage,  or  childishness.  But,  above  all,  we  must  bear  with 
our  servants  and  friends  herein ;  for  surely  they  do  not 
despise  us  as  being  impotent  or  slothful,  but  they  think  less 
of  us  by  reason  of  our  very  moderation  or  good-will 
towards  them,  some  because  we  are  gentle,  others  be¬ 
cause  we  are  loving  towards  them.  But  now,  alas ! 
out  of  a  surmise  that  we  are  contemned,  we  not  only 
become  exasperated  against  our  wives,  our  servants,  and 
friends,  but  we  oftentimes  fall  out  also  with  drunken  inn¬ 
keepers,  and  mariners  and  ostlers,  and  all  out  of  a  suspicion 
that  they  despise  us.  Yea,  we  quarrel  with  dogs  because 
they  bark  at  us,  and  asses  if  they  chance  to  rush  against 
us ;  like  him  who  was  going  to  beat  a  driver  of  asses,  but 


*  Soph.  Antig.  663. 


t  n.  XIX.  138. 


^20 


CONCERNING  THE  CURE  OF  ANGER. 


when  the  latter  cried  out,  1  am  an  Athenian,  fell  to  beating 
the  ass,  saying.  Thou  surely  art  not  an  Athenian  too,  and 
so  accosted  him  with  many  a  bastinado. 

13.  And  especially  self-love  and  morosity,  together  with 
luxury  and  effeminacy,  breed  in  us  long  and  frequent  fits  of 
anger,  which  by  little  and  little  are  gathered  together  into 
our  souls,  like  a  swarm  of  bees  or  wasps.  Wherefore  there 
is  nothing  more  conducing  to  a  gentle  behavior  towards  our 
wife  and  servants  and  friends  than  contentedness  and  sim¬ 
plicity,  if  we  can  be  satisfied  with  what  we  have,  and  not 
stand  in  need  of  many  superfluities.  Whereas  the  man 
described  in  the  poet,  — 

Who  never  is  content  with  boiled  or  roast, 

Nor  likes  his  meat,  what  way  soever  drest,  — 

who  can  never  drink  unless  he  have  snow  by  him,  or  eat 
bread  if  it  be  bought  in  the  market,  or  taste  victuals  out  of 
a  mean  or  earthen  vessel,  or  sleep  on  a  bed  unless  it  be 
swelled  and  puffed  up  with  feathers,  like  to  the  sea  when  it  is 
heaved  up  from  the  bottom;  but  who  with  cudgels  and 
blows,  with  running,  calling,  and  sweating  doth  hasten  his 
servitors  that  wait  at  table,  as  if  they  were  sent  for  plasters 
for  some  inflamed  ulcer,  he  being  slave  to  a  weak,  morose, 
and  fault-finding  style  of  life,  —  doth,  as  it  were  by  a  contin¬ 
ual  cough  or  many  buffe tings,  breed  in  himself,  before  he  is 
aware,  an  ulcerous  and  defluxive  disposition  unto  anger. 
And  therefore  the  body  is  to  be  accustomed  to  contentment 
by  frugality,  and  so  be  made  sufficient  for  itself.  For  they 
who  need  but  few  things  are  not  disappointed  of  many ;  and 
it  is  no  hard  matter,  beginning  with  our  food,  to  accept 
quietly  whatever  is  sent  to  us,  and  not  by  being  angry  and 
querulous  at  every  thing,  to  entertain  ourselves  and  our 
friends  with  the  most  unpleasant  dish  of  all,  Vhich  is 
anger.  And  surely 

Than  that  supper  nought  can  more  unpleasant  be,* 

*  Odyss.  XX.  392. 


CONCERNING  THE  CURE  OF  ANGER. 


21 


where  the  servants  are  heaten  and  the  wife  railed  at,  because 
something  is  burnt  or  smoked  or  not  salt  enough,  or 
because  the  bread  is  too  cold.  Arcesilaus  was  once  enter¬ 
taining  his  friends  and  some  strangers  at  a  feast ;  the 
supper  was  set  on  the  board,  but  there  wanted  bread,  the 
servants  having,  it  seems,  neglected  to  buy  any.  Now,  on 
such  an  occasion,  which  of  us  would  not  have  rent  the  very 
walls  with  outcries  ?  But  he  smiling  said  only :  What  a 
fine  thing  it  is  for  a  philosopher  to  be  a  jolly  feaster! 
Once  also  when  Socrates ‘took  Euthydemus  from  the  wrest¬ 
ling-house  home  Avith  him  to  supper,  his  wife  Xanthippe 
fell  upon  him  in  a  pelting  chase,  scolding  him,  and  in  con¬ 
clusion  overthrew  the  table.  Whereupon  Euthydemus  rose 
up  and  went  his  way,  being  very  much  troubled  at  what 
had  happened.  But  Socrates  said  to  him :  Did  not  a  hen 
at  your  house  the  other  day  come  flying  in,  and  do  the  like  ? 
and  yet  I  was  not  troubled  at  it.  For  friends  are  to  be 
entertained  by  good-nature,  by  smiles,  and  by  a  hospitable 
welcome  ;  not  by  knitting  brows,  or  by  striking  horror  and 
trembling  into  those  that  serve. 

We  must  also  accustom  ourselves  to  the  use  of  any  cups 
indifferently,  and  not  to  use  one  rather  than  another,  as 
some  are  wont  to  single  some  one  cup  out  of  many  (as  they 
say  Marius  used  -to  do)  or  else  a  drinking-horn,  and  to 
drink  out  of  none  but  that ;  and  they  do  the  same  with 
oil-glasses  and  brushes,  affecting  one  above  all  the  rest,  and 
when  any  one  of  these  chances  to  be  broken  or  lost,  then 
they  take  it  heinously,  and  punish  severely  those  that  did  it. 

‘  And  therefore  he  that  is  prone  to  be  angry  should  refrain 
from  such  things  as  are  rare  and  curiously  wrought,  such 
as  cups  and  seals  and  precious  stones  ;  for  such  things  dis¬ 
tract  a  Ilian  by  their  loss  more  than  cheap  and  ordinary 
things  are  apt  to  do.  Wherefore  when  Nero  had  made  an 
octagonal  tent,  a  wonderful  spectacle  for  cost  and  beauty, 
Seneca  said  to  him:  You  have  proved  yourself  to  be  a 


22 


CONCERNING  THE  CURE  OF  ANGER. 


poor  man ;  for  if  you  chance  to  lose  this,  you  cannot  tell 
where  to  get  such  another.  And  indeed  it  so  fell  out  that 
the  ship  was  sunk,  and  this  tent  was  lost  with  it.  But  Nero, 
remembering  the  words '6f  Seneca,  bore  the  loss  of  it  with 
greater  moderation. 

But  this  contentedness  in  other  matters  doth  make  a 

\ 

man  good-tempered  and  gentle  towards  his  servants  ;  and 
if  towards  servants,  then  doubtless  towards  friends  and  sub¬ 
jects  also.  We  see  also  that  newly  bought  servants  enquire 
concerning  him  that  bought  them,  not  whether  he  be  su¬ 
perstitious  or  envious,  but  whether  he  be  an  angry  man  or 
not ;  and  that  universally,  neither  men  can  endure  their 
wives,  though  chaste,  nor  women  their  husbands,  though 
kind,  if  they  be  ill-tempered  withal ;  nor  friends  the  con¬ 
versation  of  one  another.  And  so  neither  wedlock  nor 
friendship  with  anger  is  to  be  endured ;  but  if  anger  be 
away,  even  drunkenness  itself  is  counted  a  light  matter 
For  the  ferule  of  Bacchus  is  a  sufficient  chastiser  of  a 
drunken  man,  if  the  addition  of  anger  do  not  change  the 
God  of  wine  from  Lyaeus  and  Choraeus  (the  looser  of  cares 
and  the  leader  of  dances)  to  the  savage  and  furious  deity. 
And  Anticyra  (with  its  hellebore)  is  of  itself  able  to  cure 
simple  madness  ;  but  madness  mixed  with  anger  furnishes 
matter  for  tragedies  and  dismal  stories. 

14.  Neither  ought  any,  even  in  their  playing  and  jesting, 
to  give  way  to  their  anger,  for  it  turns  good-will  into  hatred  ; 
nor  when  they  are  disputing,  for  it  turns  a  desire  of  know¬ 
ing  truth  into  a  love  of  contention ;  nor  when  they  sit  in 
judgment,  for  it  adds  violence  to  authority ;  nor  when  they 
are  teaching,  for  it  dulls  the  learner,  and  breeds  in  him  a 
hatred  of  all  learning ;  nor  if  they  be  in  prosperity,  for  it 
increases  envy ;  nor  if  in  adversity,  for  it  makes  them  to  be 
unpitied,  if  they  are  morose  and  apt  to  quarrel  with  those 
who  commiserate  them,  as  Priam  did :  — 


CONCERNING  THE  CURE  OF  ANGER. 


23 


Be  gone,  ye  upbraiding  scoundrels,  haven’t  ye  at  home 
Enough,  that  to  help  bear  my  grief  ye  come  ?  * 

On  the  other  hand,  good  temper  doth  remedy  some 
things,  put  an  ornament  upon  others,  and  sweeten  others ; 
and  it  wholly  overcomes  all  anger  and  moroseness,  by  gen¬ 
tleness.  As  may  be  seen  in  that  excellent  example  of 
Euclid,  who,  when  his  brother  had  said  in  a  quarrel. 
Let  me  perish  if  I  be  not  avenged  of  you,  replied.  And 
let  me  perish  if  I  do  not  persuade  you  into  a  better  mind ; 
and  by  so  saying  he  straightway  diverted  him  from  his 
purpose,  and  changed  his  mind.  And  Polemon,  being 
reviled  by  one  that  loved  precious  stones  well  and  was  even 
sick  with  the  love  of  costly  signets,  answered  nothing,  but 
noticed  one  of  the  signets  which  the  man  wore,  and  looked 
wistfully  upon  it.  Whereat  the  man  being  pleased  said  : 
Not  so,  Polemon,  but  look  upon  it  in  the  sunshine,  and 
it  will  appear  much  better  to  you.  And  Aristippus, 
when  there  happened  to  be  a  falling  out  between  him  and 
Aeschines,  and  one  said  to  him,  O  Aristippus,  what  is 
now  become  of  the  friendship  that  was  between  you  two  ] 
answered.  It  is  asleep,  but  I  will  go  and  awaken  it. 
Then  coming  to  Aeschines,  he  said  to  him.  What?  dost 
thou  take  me  to  be  so  utterly  wretched  and  incurable 
as  not  to  be  worth  thy  admonition?  No  wonder,  said 
Aeschines,  if  thou,  by  nature  so  excelling  me  in  every 
thing,  didst  here  also  discern  before  me  what  was  right 
and  fitting  to  be  done. 

A  woman’s,  nay  a  little  child’s  soft  hand, 

With  gentle  stroking  easier  doth  command. 

And  make  the  bristling  boar  to  couch  and  fall, 

Than  any  boisterous  wrestler  of  them  all. 

A^\it  we  that  can  tame  wild  beasts  and  make  them  gentle, 
carrying  young  wolves  and  the  whelps  of  lions  in  our 
arms,  do  in  a  fit  of  anger  cast  our  own  children,  friends>, 
and  companions  out  of  our  embraces  ;  and  we  let  loose  our 


\ 


*  II.  XXIV.  239. 


24 


CONCERNING  THE  CURE  OF  ANGER. 


wrath  like  a  wild  beast  upon  our  servants  and  ftdlow  citi¬ 
zens.  And  we  but  poorly  disguise  our  rage  when  we  give 
it  the  specious  name  of  zeal  against  wickedness  ;  and  it  is 
with  this,  I  suppose,  as  with  other  passions  and  diseases  of 
the  soul,  —  although  we  call  one  forethought,  another  liber¬ 
ality,  another  pietyi  we  cannot  so  acquit  and  clear  ourselves 
of  any  of  them. 

15.  And  as  Zeno  has  said  that  the  seed  was  a  mixture 
drawn  from  all  the  powers  of  the  soul,  in  like  manner  an¬ 
ger  seems  to  be  a  kind  of  universal  seed  extracted  from  all 
the  passions.  For  it  is  taken  from  grief  and  pleasure  and 
insolence  ;  and  then  from  envy  it  hath  the  evil  property  of 
rejoicing  at  another’s  adversity  ;  and  it  is  even  worse  than 
murder  itself,  for  it  doth  not  strive  to  free  itself  from  suf¬ 
fering,  but  to  bring  mischief  to  itself,  if  it  may  thereby  but 
do  another  man  an  evil  turn.  And  it  hath  the  most  odious 
kind  of  desire  inbred  in  it,  if  the  appetite  for  grieving  and 
hurting  another  may  be  called  a  desire. 

Wherefore,  when  we  go  to  the  houses  of  drunkards,  we 
may  hear  a  wench  playing  the  flute  betimes  in  the  morn¬ 
ing,  and  behold  there,  as  one  said,  the  muddy  dregs  of 
wine,  and  scattered  fragments  of  garlands,  and  servants 
drunk  at  the  door ;  and  the  marks  of  angry  and  surly  men 
may  be  read  in  the  faces,  brands,  and  fetters  of  the  servants. 

But  lamentation  is  the  only  bard  that  is  always  to  be  heard 
beneath  the  roof”  of  the  angry  man,  while  his  stewards  are 
beaten  and  his  maid-servants  tormented ;  so  that  the  spec¬ 
tators,  in  the  midst  of  their  mirth  and  delight,  cannot  but 
pity  those  sad  effects  of  anger. 

16.  And  even  those  who,  out  of  a  real  hatred  of  wicked¬ 
ness,  often  happen  to  be  surprised  with  anger,  can  abate 
the  excess  and  vehemence  of  it  so  soon  as  they  give  up 
their  excessive  confidence  in  those  with  whom  they  con¬ 
verse.  For  of  all  causes  this  doth  most  increase  anerer, 
when  one  proves  to  be  wicked  whom  we  took  for  a  good 


CONCERNING  THE  CURE  OF  ANGER. 


25 


man,  or  Avhen  one  who  we  thought  had  loved  us  falls  into 
some  difference  and  chiding  with  us. 

As  for  my  own  disposition,  thou  knowest  very  well  with 
how  strong  inclinations  it  is  carried  to  show  kindness  to 
men  and  to  confide  in  them  ;  and  therefore,  like  those  who 
miss  their  step  and  tread  on  nothing,  when  I  most  of  all 
trust  to  men’s  love  and,  as  it  were,  prop  myself  up  with  it, 
I  do  then  most  of  all  miscarry,  and,  finding  myself  disap- 
pointed,  am  troubled  at  it.  And  indeed  I  should  never 
succeed  in  freeing  myself  from  this  too  great  eagerness 
and  forwardness  in  my  love ;  but  against  excessive  confi¬ 
dence  perhaps  I  can  make  use  of  Plato’s  caution  for  a 
bridle.  For  he  said  that  he  so  commended  Helicon,  the 
mathematician,  because  he  thought  him  a  naturally  versa¬ 
tile  animal ;  but  that  he  had  a  jealousy  of  those  who  had 
been  well  educated  in  the  city,  lest,  being  men  and  the 
offspring  of  men,  they  should  in  something  or  other  dis¬ 
cover  the  infirmity  of  their  nature.  But  when  Sophocles 
says.  If  you  search  the  deeds  of  mortals,  you  will  find 
the  most  are  base,  he  seems  to  insult  and  disparage  us 
over  much.  Still  even  such  a  harsh  and  censorious  judg¬ 
ment  as  this  may  make  us  more  moderate  in  our  anger ; 
for  it  is  the  sudden  and  the  unexpected  which  do  most 
drive  us  to  frenzy.  But  we  ought,  as  Panaetius  somewhere 
said,  to  imitate  Anaxagoras  ;  and  as  he  said  upon  the  death 
of  his  son,  I  knew  before  that  I  had  begotten  but  a  mortal, 
so  should  every  one  of  us  use  expressions  like  these  of 
those  offences  which  stir  up  to  anger :  I  knew,  when  I 
bought  my  servant,  that  I  was  not  buying  a  philosopher ; 

I  knew  that  I  did  not  get  a  friend  that  had  no  passions ;  I 
knew  that  I  had  a  wife  that  was  but  a  woman.  But  if 
every  one  would  always  repeat  the  question  of  Plato  to 
himself.  But  am  not  I  perhaps  such  a  one  myself?  and 
turn  his  reason  from  abroad  to  look  into  himself,  and  put 
restraint  upon  his  reprehension  of  others,  he  would  not 


26 


CONCERNING  THE  CURE  OF  ANGER. 


make  so  much  use  of  his  hatred  of  evil  in  reprovii.g  other 
men.  seeing  himself  to  stand  in  need  of  great  indulgence. 
But  now  every  one  of  us,  when  he  is  angry  and  punishing, 
can  bring  the  words  of  Aristides  and  of  Cato  :  Do  not  steal, 
Do  not  lie,  and  Why  are  ye  so  slothful?  And,  what  is 
most  truly  shameful  of  all,  we  do  in  our  anger  reprove 
others  for  being  angry,  and  what  was  done  amiss  through 
anger  we  punish  in  our  passion,  therein  not  acting  like 
physicians,  who 

Purge  bitter  choler  with  a  bitter  pill,* 

but  rather  increasing  and  exasperating  the  disease  which 
we  pretend  to  cure. 

While  therefore  I  am  thus  reasoning  with  myself,  I  en¬ 
deavor  also  to  abate  something  of  my  curiosity ;  because 
for  any  one  over  curiously  to  enquire  and  pry  into  every 
thing,  and  to  make  a  public  business  of  every  employment 
of  a  servant,  every  action  of  a  friend,  every  pastime  of  a 
son,  every  whispering  of  a  wife,  causes  great  and  long  and 
daily  fits  of  anger,  whereof  the  product  and  issue  is  a 
peevish  and  morose  disposition.  Wherefore  God,  as  Euri¬ 
pides  says. 

Affairs  of  greatest  weight  himself  directeth, 

But  matters  small  to  Fortune  he  committeth.f 

But  I  think  a  prudent  man  ought  not  to  commit  any  thing 
at  all  to  Fortune,  nor  to  neglect  any  thing,  but  to  trust  and 
commit  some  things  to  his  wife,  some  things  to  his  servants, 
and  some  things  to  his  friends  (as  a  prince  to  certain  vice¬ 
gerents  and  accountants  and  administrators),  while  he  him¬ 
self  is  employing  his  reason  about  the  weightiest  matters, 
and  those  of  greatest  concern. 

For  as  small  letters  hurt  the  sight,  so  do  small  matters 
him  that  is  too  much  intent  upon  them ;  they  vex  and  stir 


*  Sophocles,  Frag.  769 


t  Euripides,  Frag.  964. 


CHESTNUT  HIU., 


CONCERNING  THE  CURE  OF  ANGER.  27 

up  anger,  which  begets  an  evil  habit  in  him  in  reference 
to  greater  affairs.  But  above  all  the  rest,  J  look  on  that 
of  Empedocles  as  a  divine  thing,  ‘‘  To  fast  from  evil.” 
And  I  commended  also  those  vows  and  professions  made 
in  prayers,  as  things  neither  indecent  in  themselves  nor 
unbecoming  a  philosopher,  —  for  a  whole  year  to  abstain 
from  venery  and  wine,  serving  God  with  temperance  all 
the  while ;  or  else  again,  for  a  certain  time  to  abstain  from 
lying,  minding  and  watching  over  ourselves,  that  we  speak 
nothing  but  what  is  true,  either  in  earnest  or  in  jest.  After 
the  manner  of  these  vows  then  I  made  my  own,  supposing 
it  would  be  no  less  acceptable  to  God  and  sacred  than 
theirs ;  and  I  set  myself  first  to  observe  a  few  sacred  days 
also,  wherein  I  would  abstain  from  being  angry,  as  if  it 
were  from  being  drunk  or  from  drinking  wine,  celebrating 
a  kind  of  Nephalia  and  Melisponda  *  with  respect  to  my 
anger.  Then,  making  trial  of  myself  little  by  little  for  a 
month  or  two,  I  by  this  means  in  time  made  >  some  good 
progress  unto  further  patience  in  bearing  evils,  diligently 
observing  and  keeping  myself  courteous  in  language  and 
behavior,  free  from  anger,  and  pure  from  all  wicked  words 
and  absurd  actions,  and  from  passion,  which  for  a  little 
(and  that  no  grateful)  pleasure  brings  with  itself  great 
perturbations  and  shameful  repentance.  Whence  experi¬ 
ence,  not  without  some  divine  assistance,  hath,  I  suppose, 
made  it  evident  that  that  was  a  very  true  judgment  and 
assertion,  that  this  courteous,  gentle,  and  kindly  disposition 
and  behavior  is  not  so  acceptable,  so  pleasing,  and  so'  de¬ 
lightful  to  any  of  those  with  whom  we  converse,  as  it  is  to 
those  that  have  it. 

*  Nephalia  {vf/<po),  to  be  sober)  were  wineless  offerings,  like  those  to  the  Euraen 
ides.  See  Aesch.  Eumen.  107 :  Xoag  r*  uoivovg,  vij^uXia  fietliyfiaTa.  Melisponda  {[Jd'ki) 
were  offerings  of  honey.  (G.) 


OF  SUPERSTITION  OR  INDISCREET  DEVOTION. 


1.  Our  great  ignorance  of  the  Divine  Beings  most  natu¬ 
rally  runs  in  two  streams ;  whereof  the  one  in  harsh  and  coarse 
tempers,  as  in  dry  and  stubborn  soils,  produces  atheism, 
and  the  other  in  the  more  tender  and  flexible,  as  in  moist 
and  yielding  grounds,  produces  superstition.  Indeed,  every 
wrong  judgment,  in  matters  of  this  nature  especially,  is 
a  great  unhappiness  to  us  ;  but  it  is  here  attended  with  a 
passion,  or  disorder  of  the  mind,  of  a  worse  consequence 
than  itself.  For  every  such  passion  is,  as  it  were,  an  error 
inflamed.  And  as  a  dislocation  is  the  more  painful  when 
it  is  attended  with  a  bruise,  so  are  the  perversions  of  our 
understandings,  when  attended  with  passion.  Is  a  man  of 
opinion  that  atoms  and  a  void  were  the  first  origins  of 
things'?  It  is  indeed  a  mistaken  conceit,  but  makes  no 
ulcer,  no  shooting,  no  searching  pain.  But  is  a  man  of 
opinion  that  wealth  is  his  last  good  ?  This  error  contains 
in  it  a  canker ;  it  preys  upon  a  man’s  spirits,  it  transports 
him,  it  suffers  him  not  to  sleep,  it  makes  him  horn-mad,  it 
carries  him  over  headlong  precipices,  strangles  him,  and 
makes  him  unable  to  speak  his  mind.  Are  there  some 
again,  that  take  virtue  and  vice  for  substantial  bodies  ? 
This  may  be  sottish  conceit  indeed,  but  yet  it  bespeaks 
neither  lamentations  nor  groans.  But  such  opinions  and 
conceits  as  these,  — 

Poor  virtue  !  thou  wast  but  a  name,  and  mere  jest, 

And  I,  clioust  fool,  did  practise  thee  in  earnest. 


OF  SUPERSTITION. 


29 


and  for  thee  have  I  quitted  injustice,  the  way  to  wealth,  and 
excess,  the  parent  of  all  true  pleasure,  —  these  are  the 
thoughts  that  call  at  once  for  our  pity  and  indignation ;  for 
they  will  engender  swarms  of  - diseases,  like  fly-blows  and 
vermin,  in  our  minds. 

2.  To  return  then  to  our  subject,  atheism,  which  is 
a  false  persuasion  that  there  are  no  blessed  and  incorrupti¬ 
ble  beings,  tends  yet,  by  its  disbelief  of  a  Divinity,  to  bring 
men  to  a  sort  of  unconcernedness  and  indifferency  of  temper  ; 
for  the  design  of  those  that  deny  a  God  is  to  ease  themselves 
of  his  fear.  But  superstition  appears  by  its  appellation 
to  be  a  distempered  opinion  and  conceit,  productive  of 
such  mean  and  abject  apprehensions  as  debase  and  break 
a  man’s  spirit,  while  he  thinks  there  are  divine  powers  in¬ 
deed,  but  withal  sour  and  vindictive  ones.  So  that  the 
atheist  is  not  at  all,  and  the  superstitious  is  perversely,  affected 
with  the  thoughts  of  God ;  ignorance  depriving  the  one  of 
the  sense  of  his  goodness,  and  superadding  to  the  other  a 
persuasion  of  his  cruelty.  Atheism  then  is  but  false  reason¬ 
ing  single,  but  superstition  is  a  disorder  of  the  mind  pro¬ 
duced  by  this  false  reasoning. 

3.  Every  distemper  of  our  minds  is  truly  base  and  igno¬ 
ble  ;  yet  some  passions  are  accompanied  with  a  sort  of  levity, 
that  makes  men  appear  gay,  prompt,  and  erect ;  but  none, 
we  may  say,  are  wholly  destitute  of  force  for  action.  But 
the  common  charge  upon  all  sorts  of  passions  is,  that  they 
excite  and  urge  the  reason,  forcing  it  by  their  violent  stings. 
Tear  alone,  being  equally  destitute  of  reason  and  audacity, 
renders  our  whole  irrational  part  stupid,  distracted,  and  un¬ 
serviceable.  Therefore  it  is  called  dsTfia  because  it  hiuds, 
and  TUQ^og  because  it  distracts  the  mind.*  But  of  all  fears, 
none  so  dozes  and  confounds  as  that  of  superstition.  He 
fears  not  the  sea  that  never  goes  to  sea ;  nor  a  battle,  that 

*  Plutarch  derives  delfia  from  deu,  to  bind,  and  vapSoc  from  rapaaou,  to  distract  or 
confuse,  (G.) 


30 


OF  SUPERSTITION 


follows  not  the  camp ;  nor  robbers^  that  stirs  not  abroad ; 
nor  malicious  informers,  that  is  a  poor  man  ;  nor  emulation, 
that  leads  a  private  life ;  nor  earthquakes,  that  dwells  in 
Gaul ;  nor  thunderbolts,  that  dwells  in  Ethiopia :  but  he 
that  dreads  divine  powers  dreads  every  thing,  the  land,  the 
sea,  the  air,  the  sky,  the  dark,  the  light,  a  sound,  a  silence, 
a  dream.  Even  slaves  forget  their  masters  in  their  sleep  ; 
sleep  lightens  the  irons  of  the  fettered ;  their  angry  sores, 
mortified  gangrenes,  and  pinching  pains  allow  them  some 
intermission  at  night. 

Dear  sleep,  sweet  easer  of  my  irksome  grief, 

Pleasant  thou  art !  how  welcome  thy  relief!  * 

Superstition  will  not  permit  a  man  to  say  this.  That 
alone  will  give  no  truce  at  night,  nor  suffer  the  poor  soul 
so  much  as  to  breathe  or  look  up,  or  respite  her  sour  and 
dismal  thoughts  of  God  a  moment ;  but  raises  in  the  sleep 
of  the  superstitious,  as  in  the  place  of  the  damned,  certain 
prodigious  forms  and  ghastly  spectres,  and  perpetually 
tortures  the  unhappy  soul,  chasing  her  out  of  sleep  into 
dreams,  lashed  and  tormented  by  her  own  self,  as  by  some 
other,  and  charged  by  herself  with  dire  and  portentous 
injunctions.  Neither  have  they,  when  awake,  enough  sense 
to  slight  and  smile  at  all  this,  or  to  be  pleased  with  the 
thought  that  nothing  of  all  that  terrified  them  was  real ; 
but  they  still  fear  an  empty  shadow,  that  could  never  mean 
them  any  ill,  and  cheat  themselves  afresh  at  noonday,  and 
keep  a  bustle,  and  are  at  expense  upon  the  next  fortune¬ 
teller  or  vagrant  that  shall  but  tell  them  :  — 

If  in  a  dream  hobgoblin  thou  hast  seen, 

Or  felt’st  the  rambling  guards  o’  th’  Fairy  Queen,  * 

send  for  some  old  witch  who  can  purify  thee,  go  dip  thy¬ 
self  in  the  sea,  and  then  sit  down  upon  the  bare  ground  the 
rest  of  the  day. 

O  that  our  Greeks  should  found  such  barbarous  rites, t 
*  Eurip.  Orestes,  211.  '  t  Eurip.  Troad.  759. 


OR  INDISCREET  DEVOTION. 


31 


as  tumbling  in  mire,  rolling  themselves  in  dunghills,  keep¬ 
ing  of  Sabbaths,  monstrous  prostrations,  long  and  obstinate 
sittings  in  a  place,  and  vile  and  abject  adorations,  and  all 
for  vain  superstition !  They  that  were  careful  to  preserve 
good  singing  used  to  direct  the  practisers  of  that  science  to 
sing  with  their  mouths  in  their  true  and  proper  postures. 
Should  not  we  then  admonish  those  that  would  address 
themselves  to  the  heavenly  powers  to  do  that  also  with  a 
true  and  natural  mouth,  lest,  while  we  are  so  solicitous  that 
the  tongue  of  a  sacrifice  be  pure  and  right,  we  distort  and 
abuse  our  own  with  silly  and  canting  language,  and  there¬ 
by  expose  the  dignity  of  our  divine  and  ancient  piety  to 
contempt  and  raillery  1  It  was  not  unpleasantly  said  some¬ 
where  by  the  comedian  to  those  that  adorned  their  beds  with 
the  needless  ornaments  of  silver  and  gold :  Since  the  Gods 
have  given  us  nothing  gratis  except  sleep,  why  will  you 
make  that  so  costly  1  It  might  as  well  be  said  to  the 
superstitious  bigot :  Since  the  Gods  have  bestowed  sleep  on 
us,  to  the  intent  we  may  take  some  rest  and  forget  our 
sorrows,  why  will  you  needs  make  it  a  continual  irksome 
tormentor,  when  you  know  your  poor  soul  hath  ne’er 
another  sleep  to  betake  herself  to  'I  Hera'clitus  saith :  They 
who  are  awake  have  a  world  in  common  amongst  them ;  but 
they  that  are  asleep  are  retired  each  to  his  own  private 
world.  But  the  frightful  visionary  hath  ne’er  a  world  at 
■  all,  either  in  common  with  others  or  in  private  to  himself ; 
for  neither  can  he  use  his  reason  when  awake,  nor  be  free 
from  his  fears  when  asleep  ;  but  he  hath  his  reason  always 
asleep,  and  his  fears  always  awake ;  nor  hath  he  either  an 
hiding-place  or  refuge.  ^ 

4.  Polycrates  was  formidable  at  Samos,  and  so  was 
Periander  at  Corinth;  but  no  man  ever. feared  either  of 
them  that  had  made  his  escape  to  an  equal  and  free 
government.  But  he  that  dreads  the  divine  government, 
as  a  sort  of  inexorable  and  implacable  tyranny,  whither 


32 


OF  SUPERSTITION 


can  lie  remove  ?  Whither  cam  he  fly  ?  What  land,  what 
sea  can  he  find  where  God  is  not  ]  Wretched  and  miser¬ 
able  man  1  in  what  corner  of  the  world  canst  thou  so  hide 
thyself,  as  to  think  thou  hast  now  escaped  him  ?  Slaves 
are  allowed  by  the  laws,  when  they  despair  of  obtaining 
their  freedom,  to  demand  a  second  sale,  in  hopes  of  kinder 
masters.  But  superstition  allows  of  no  change  of  Gods  ; 
nor  could  he  indeed  find  a  God  he  would  not  fear,  that 
dreads  his  own  and  his  ancestors’  guardians,  that  quivers  at 
his  preservers  and  benign  patrons,  and  that  trembles  and 
shakes  at  those  of  whom  we  ask  wealth,  plenty,  concord, 
peace,  and  direction  to  the  best  words  and  actions.  Slaves 
again  account  it  their  misfortune  to  become  such,  and  can 
say,  — 

Both  man  and  wife  in  direful  slavery, 

And  with  ill  masters  too  !  Fate’s  worst  decree  ! 

But  how  much  less  tolerable,  think  you,  is  their  condition, 
that  can  never  possibly  run  away,  escape,  or  desert?  A 
slave  may  fly  to  an  altar,  and  many  temples  afford  sanctuary 
to  thieves  ;  and  they  that  are  pursued  by  an  enemy  think 
themselves  safe  if  they  can  catch  hold  on  a  statue  or  a 
shrine.  But  the  superstitious  fears,  quivers,  and  dreads 
most  of  all  there,  where  others  when  fearfullest  take 
greatest  courage.  Never  hale  a  superstitious  man  from 
the  altar.  It  is  his  place  of  torment ;  he  is  there  chas¬ 
tised.  In  one  word,  death  itself,  the  end  of  life,  puts  no 
period  to  this  vain  and  foolish  dread  ;  but  it  transcends 
those  limits,  and  extends  its  fears  beyond  the  grave,  adding 
to  it  the  imagination  of  immortal  ills  ;  and  after  respite  from 
past  sorrows,  it  fancies  it  shall  next  enter  upon  never-end¬ 
ing  ones.  I  know  not  what  gates  of  hell  open  themselves 
from  beneath,  rivers  of  fire  together  with  Stygian  torrents 
present  themselves  to  view  ;  a  gloomy  darkness  appears 
full  of  ghastly  spectres  and  horrid  shapes,  with  dreadful 
aspects  and  doleful  groans,  together  with  judges  and  tor- 


OR  INDISCREET  DEVOTION. 


33 


mentors,  pits  and  caverns,  full  of  millions  of  miseries  and 
woes.  Thus  does  wretched  superstition  bring  inevitably 
upon  itself  by  its  fancies  even  those  calamities  which  it  has 
once  escaped. 

5.  Atheism  is  attended  with  none  of  this.  True  indeed, 
the  ignorance  is  very  lamentable  and  sad.  For  to  be  blind 
or  to  see  amiss  in  matters  of  this  consequence  cannot  but 
be  a  fatal  unhappiness  to  the  mind,  it  being  then  deprived 
of  the  fairest  and  brightest  of  its  many  eyes,  the  knowledge 
of  God.  Yet  this  opinion  (as  hath  been  said)  is  not  neces¬ 
sarily  accompanied  with  any  disordering,  ulcerous,  frightful, 
or  slavish  passion.  Plato  thinks  the  Gods  never  gave  men 
music,  the  science  of  melody  and  harmony,  for  mere 
delectation  or  to  tickle  the  ear,  but  in  order  that  the 
confusion  and  disorder  in  the  periods  and  harmonies  of 
the  soul,  which  often  for  want  of  the  Muses  and  of  grace 
break  forth  into  extravagance  through  intemperance  and 
license,  might  be  sweetly  recalled,  and  artfully  wound  up 
to  their  former  consent  and  agreement. 

No  animal  accurst  by  Jove 

Music’s  sweet  charms  can  ever  love,* 

saith  Pindar.  For  all  such  will  rave  and  grow  outrageous 
straight.  Of  this  we  have  an  instance  in  tigers,  which 
(as  they  say),  if  they  hear  but  a  tabor  beat  near  them,  will 
rage  immediately  and  run  stark  mad,  and  in  fine  tear 
themselves  in  pieces.  They  certainly  suffer  the  less 
inconvenience  of  the  two,  who  either  through  defect  of 
hearing  or  utter  deafness  are  wholly  insensible  of  music, 
and  therefore  unmoved  by  it.  It  was  a  great  misfortune 
indeed  to  Tiresias,  that  he  wanted  sight  to  see  his  friends 
and  children ;  but  a  far  greater  to  Athamas  and  Agave,  to 
see  them  in  the  shape  of  lions  and  bucks.  And  it  had 
been  happier  for  Hercules,  when  he  was  distracted,  if  he 
could  have  neither  seen  nor  known  his  children,  than  to 


♦  Pindar,  Pyth.  I.  25. 


34 


OF  SUPERSTITION 


have  used  like  the  worst  of  enemies  those  he  so  tenderly 
loved. 

6.  Well  then,  is  not  this  the  very  case  of  the  atheist, 
compared  with  the  superstitious  ?  The  former  sees  not 
the  Gods  at  all,  the  latter  believes  that  he  really  sees  them  ; 
the  former  wholly  overlooks  them,  but  the  latter  mistakes 
their  benignity  for  terror,  their  paternal  affection  for 
tyranny,  their  providence  for  cruelty,  and  their  frank  sim¬ 
plicity  for  savageness  and  brutality. 

Again,  the  workman  in  copper,  stone,  and  wax  can  pej*- 
suade  such  that  the  Gods  are  in  human  shape ;  for  so  they 
make  them,  so  they  draw  them,  and  so  they  worship  them. 
But  they  will  not  hear  either  philosophers  or  statesmen 
that  describe  the  majesty  of  the  Divinity  as  accompanied 
by  goodness,  magnanimity,  benignity,  and  beneficence. 
The  one  therefore  hath  neither  a  sense  nor  belief  of  that 
divine  good  he  might  participate  of ;  and  the  other  dreads 
and  fears  it.  In  a  word,  atheism  is  an  absolute  insensi¬ 
bility  to  God  (or  want  of  passion),  which  does  not 
recognize  goodness  ;  while  superstition  is  a  blind  heap 
of  passions,  which  imagine  the  good  to  be  evil.  They  are 
afraid  of  their  Gods,  and  yet  run  to  them  ;  they  fawn  upon 
them,  and  reproach  them  ;  they  invoke  them,  and  accuse 
them.  It  is  the  common  destiny  of  humanity  not  to  enjoy 
uninterrupted  felicity. 

Nor  pains,  nor  age,  nor  labor  they  e’er  bore. 

Nor  visited  rough  Acheron’s  hoarse  shore, 

saith  Pindar  of  the  Gods  ;  but  human  passions  and  affairs 
are  liable  to  a  strange  multiplicity  of  uncertain  accidents 
and  contingencies. 

7.  Consider  well  the  atheist,  and  observe  his  behavior 
first  in  things  not  under  the  disposal  of  his  will.  If  he  be 
otherwise  a  man  of  good  temper,  he  is  silent  under  his 
present  circumstances,  and  is  providing  himself  with  either 
remedies  or  palliatives  for  his  misfortunes.  But  if  he  be  a 


OR  INDISCREET  DEVOTION. 


35 


fretful  and  impatient  man,  his  whole  complaint  is  against 
Fortune.  He  cries  out,  that  nothing  is  managed  here 
below  either  after  the  rules  of  a  strict  justice  or  the  orderly 
course  of  a  providence,  and  that  all  human  affairs  are  hur¬ 
ried  and  driven  without  either  premeditation  or  distinction. 
This  is  not  the  demeanor  of  the  superstitious ;  if  the  least 
thing  do  but  happen  amiss  to  him,  he  sits  him  down 
plunged  in  sorrow,  and  raises  himself  a  vast  tempest  of 
intolerable  and  incurable  passions,  and  presents  his  fancy 
with  nothing  but  terrors,  fears,  surmises,  and  distractions, 
until  he  hath  overwhelmed  himself  with  groans  and  fears. 
He  blames  neither  man,  nor  Fortune,  nor  the  times,  nor 
himself ;  but  charges  all  upon  God,  from  whom  he  fancies 
a  whole  deluge  of  vengeance  to  be  pouring  down  upon 
him ;  and,  as  if  he  were  not  only  unfortunate  but  in  open 
hostility  with  Heaven,  he  imagines  that  he  is  punished  by 
God  and  is  now  making  satisfaction  for  his  past  crimes, 
and  saith  that  his  sufferings  are  all  just  and  owing  to  him¬ 
self.  Again,  when  the  atheist  falls  sick,  he  reckons  up 
and  calls  to  his  remembrance  his  several  surfeits  and 
debauches,  his  irregular  course  of  living,  excessive  labors, 
or  unaccustomed  changes  of  air  or  climate.  Likewise, 
when  he  miscarries  in  any  public  administration,  and  either 
falls  into  popular  disgrace  or  comes  to  be  ill  presented  to 
his  prince,  he  searches  for  the  causes  in  himself  and  those 
about  him,  and  asks. 

Where  have  I  erred  1  What  have  I  done  amiss  ? 

What  should  be  done  by  me  that  undone  is  1  * 

But  the  fanciful  superstitionist  accounts  every  little  dis¬ 
temper  in  his  body  or  decay  in  his  estate,  the  death  of  his 
children,  and  crosses  and  disappointments  in  matters  relat¬ 
ing  to  the  public,  as  the  immediate  strokes  of  'God  and 
the  incursions  of  some  vindictive  daemon.  And  therefore 
he  dares  not  attempt  to  remove  or  relieve  his  disasters,  or 

♦  Pythagoras,  Carmen  Aur.  41. 


36 


OF  SUPERSTITION 


to  use  the  least  remedy  or  to  oppose  himself  to  them,  for  fear 
he  should  seem  to  struggle  with  God  and  to  make  resist¬ 
ance  under  correction.  If  he  be  sick,  he  thrusts  away  the 
physician ;  if  he  be  in  any  grief,  he  shuts  out  the  philoso¬ 
pher  that  would  comfort  and  advise  him.  Let  me  alone, 
saith  he,  to  pay  for  my  sins :  I  am  a  cursed  and  vile  offen¬ 
der,  and  detestable  both  to  God  and  angels.  Now  suppose 
a  man  unpersuaded  of  a  Divinity  in  never  so  great  sorrow 
and  trouble,  you  may  yet  possibly  wipe  away  his  tears,  cut 
his  hair,  and  force  away  his  mourning ;  but  how  will  you 
come  at  this  superstitious  penitentiary,  either  to  speak  to 
him  or  to  bring  him  any  relief]  He  sits  him  down  with¬ 
out  doors  in  sackcloth,  or  wrapped  up  in  foul  and  nasty 
rags  ;  yea,  many  times  rolls  himself  naked  in  mire,  repeat¬ 
ing  over  I  know  not  what  sins  and  transgressions  of  his 
own ;  as,  how  he  did  eat  this  thing  and  drink  the  other 
thing,  or  went  some  way  prohibited  by  his  Genius.  But 
suppose  he  be  now  at  his  best,  and  laboring  under  only  a 
mild  attack  of  superstition ;  you  shall  even  then  find  him 
sitting  down  in  the  midst  of  his  house  all  becharmed  and 
bespelled,  with  a  parcel  of  old  women  about  him,  tugging 
all  they  can  light  on,  and  hanging  it  upon  him  as  (to  use 
an  expression  of  Bion’s)  upon  some  nail  or  peg. 

8.  It  is  reported  of  Teribazus  that,  being  seized  by  the 
Persians,  he  drew  out  his  scimitar,  and  being  a  very  stout 
person,  defended  himself  bravely  ;  but  when  they  cried 
out  and  told  him  he  was  apprehended  by  the  king’s  order,  he 
immediately  put  up  his  sword,  and  presented  his  hands  to 
be  bound.  Is  not  this  the  very  case  of  the  superstitious  ? 
Others  can  oppose  their  misfortunes,  repel  their  troubles, 
and  furnish  themselves  with  retreats,  or  means  of  avoiding 
the  stroke  of  things  not  under  the  disposal  of  their  wills  ; 
but  the  superstitious  person,  without  anybody’s  speaking 
to  him,  —  but  merely  upon  his  own  saying  to  himself.  This 
thou  undergoest,  vile  wretch,  by  the  direction  of  Providence, 


OR  INDISCREET  DEVOTION. 


37 


and  by  Heaven’s  just  appointment,  —  immediately  casts 
away  all  hope,  surrenders  himself  up,  and  shuns  and 
affronts  his  friends  that  would  relieve  him.  Thus  do  these 
sottish  fears  oftentimes  convert  tolerable  evils  into  fatal  and 
insupportable  ones.  The  ancient  Midas  (as  the  story  goes 
of  him),  being  much  troubled  and  disquieted  by  certain 
dreams,  grew  so  melancholy  thereupon,  that  he  made  him¬ 
self  away  by  drinking  bull’s  blood.  Aristodemus,  king  of 
Messenia,  when  a  war  broke  out  betwixt  the  Lacedaemo¬ 
nians  and  the  Messenians,  upon  some  dogs  howling  like 
wolves,  and  grass  coming  up  about  his  ancestors’  domestic 
altar,  and  his  divines  presaging  ill  upon  it,  fell  into  such  a 
fit  of  sullenness  and  despair  that  he  slew  himself.  And 
perhaps  it  had  been  better  if  the  Athenian  general,  Nicias, 
had  been  eased  of  his  folly  the  same  way  that  Midas  and 
Aristodemus  were,  than  for  him  to  sit  still  for  fear  of  a 
lunar  eclipse,  while  he  was  invested  by  an  enemy,  and  so 
be  himself  made  a  prisoner,  together  with  an  army  of  forty 
thousand  men  (that  were  all  either  slain  or  taken),  and  die 
ingloriously.  There  was  nothing  formidable  in  the  inter¬ 
position  of  the  earth  betwixt  the  sun  and  the  moon,  neither 
was  there  any  thing  dreadful  in  the  shadow’s  meeting  the 
moon  at  the  proper  time :  no,  the  dreadfulness  lay  here, 
that  the  darkness  of  ignorance  should  blind  and  befool 
a  man’s  reason  at  a  time  when  he  had  most  occasion  to 
use  it. 

Glaucus,  behold  ! 

The  sea  with  billows  deep  begins  to  roll ; 

The  seas  begin  in  azure  rods  to  lie  ; 

A  teeming  cloud  of  pitch  hangs  on  the  sky 

Right  o’er  Gyre  rbcks ;  there  is  a  tempest  nigh  ;  * 

which  as  soon  as  the  pilot  sees,  he  falls  to  his  prayers  and 
invokes  his  tutelar  daemons,  but  neglects  not  in  the  mean 
time  to  hold  to  the  rudder  and  let  down  the  mainyard ; 
and  so. 


*  Archilochus,  Frag.  66. 


38 


OF  SUPERSTITION 


By  gathering  in  his  sails,  with  mighty  pain, 

Escapes  the  hell-pits  of  the  raging  main. 

Hesiod*  directs  his  husbandman,  before  he  either 
plough  or  sow,  to  pray  to  the  infernal  Jove  and  the  vener¬ 
able  Ceres,  but  with  his  hand  upon  the  plough-tail.  Homer 
acquaints  us  how  Ajax,  being  to  engage  in  a  single  combat 
with  Hector,  bade  the  Grecians  pray  to  the  Gods  for  him  ; 
and  while  they  were  at  their  devotions,  he  was  putting  on 
his  armor.  Likewise,  after  Agamemnon  had  thus  prepared 

his  soldiers  for  the  fight,  — 

✓ 

Each  make  his  spear  to  glitter  as  the  sun, 

Each  see  his  warlike  target  well  hung  on,  — 

he  then  prayed,  — 

Grant  me,  great  Jove,  to  throw  down  Priam’s  roof.t 

For  God  is  the  brave  man’s  hope,  and  not  the  coward’s 
excuse.  The  Jews  indeed  once  sat  on  their  tails,  —  it  be¬ 
ing  forsooth  their  Sabbath  day,  —  and  suffered  their  enemies 
to  rear  their  scaling-ladders  and  make  themselves  masters 
of  their  walls,  and  so  lay  still  until  they  were  caught 
like  so  many  trout  in  the  drag-net  of  their  own  supersti- 

tion.J 

9.  Such  then  is  the  behavior  of  superstition  in  times  of 
adversity,  and  in  things  out  of  the  power  of  man’s  will. 
Nor  doth  it  a  jot  excel  atheism,  in  the  more  agreeable  and 
pleasurable  part  of  our  lives.  Now  what  we  esteem  the 
most  agreeable  things  in  human  life  are  our  holidays, 
temple-feasts,  initiatings,  ■  processionings,  with  our  public 
prayers  and  solemn  devotions.  Mark  we  now  the  atheist’s 
behavior  here.  ’Tis  true,  he  laughs  at  all  that  is  done, 
with  a  frantic  and  sardonic  laughter,  and  now  and  then 
whispers  to  a  confidant  of  his.  The  devil  is  in  these  people 
sure,  that  can  imagine  God  can  be  taken  with  these  foole- 

*  Hesiod,  Works  and  Days,  463.  t  See  II.  VII.  193  ;  II.  382,  414. 

J  See  Maccabees,  I.  2,  27-38,  cited  by  Wyttenbach.  (G.) 


OR  INDISCREET  DEVOTION. 


39 


ries :  but  this  is  the  worst  of  his  disasters.  But  now  the 
superstitious  man  would  fain  be  pleasant  and  gay,  but  can¬ 
not  for  his  heart.  The  whole  town  is  filled  with  odors  of 
incense  and  perfumes,  and  at  the  same  time  a  mixture  of 
hymns  and  sighs  fills  his  poor  soul.*  He  looks  pale  with 
a  garland  on  his  head,  he  sacrifices  and  fears,  prays  with  a 
faltering  tongue,  and  offers  incense  with  a  trembling  hand. 
In  a  word,  he  utterly  baffles  that  saying  of  Pythagoras, 
that  we  are  then  best  when  we  come  near  the  Gods.  For 
the  superstitious  person  is  then  in  his  worst  and  most  piti¬ 
ful  condition,  when  he  approaches  the  shrines  and  temples 
of  the  Gods. 

10.  So  that  I  cannot  but  wonder  at  those  that  charge 
atheism  with  impiety,  and  in  the  mean  time  acquit  super¬ 
stition.  Anaxagoras  was  indicted  of  blasphemy  for  having 
affirmed  the  sun  to  be  a  red-hot  stone  ;  yet  the  Cimmerians 
were  never  much  blamed  for  denying  his  being.  What  ] 
Is  he  that  holds  there  is  no  God  guilty  of  impiety,  and  is 
not  he  that  describes  him  as  the  superstitious  do  much 
more  guilty?  I,  for  my  own  part,  had  much  rather 
people  should  say  of  me,  that  there  neither  is  nor  ever 
was  such  a  man  as  Plutarch,  than  they  should  say : 
“  Plutarch  is  an  unsteady,  fickle,  froward,  vindictive, 
and  touchy  fellow  ;  if  you  invite  others  to  sup  with  you, 
and  chance  to  leave  out  Plutarch,  or  if  some  business 
falls  out  that  you  cannot  wait  at  his  door  with  the  morn¬ 
ing  salute,  or  if  when  you  meet  with  him  you  don’t 
speak  to  him,  he’ll  fasten  upon  you  somewhere  with  his 
teeth  and  bite  the  part  through,  or  catch  one  of  your 
children  and  cane  him,  or  turn  his  beast  into  your  corn 
and  spoil  your  crop.”  When  Timotheus  the  musician 
was  one  day  singing  at  Athens  an  hymn  to  Diana,  in 
which  among  other  things  was  this,  — 


Mad,  raving,  tearing,  foaming  Deity,  — 
*  Sophocles,  Oed.  Tyr.  4. 


40 


OF  SUPERSTITION 


Cinesias,  the  lyric  poet,  stood  up  from  the  midst  of  the 
spectators,  and  spoke  aloud :  I  wish  thee  with  all  my  heart 
such  a  Goddess  to  thy  daughter,  Timotheus.  Such  like, 
nay  worse,  are  the  conceits  of  the  superstitious  about  this 
Goddess  Diana :  — 

Thou  dost  on  the  bed-clothes  jump. 

And  there  liest  like  a  lump. 

Thou  dost  tantalize  the  bride, 

When  love’s  charms  by  thee  are  tied. 

Thou  look’st  grim  and  full  of  dread. 

When  thou  walk’st  to  find  the  dead.  > 

Thou  down  chairs  and  tables  rumbl’st. 

When  with  Oberon  thou  tumbl’st.* 

Nor  have  they  any  milder  sentiments  of  Apollo,  Juno,  or 
Venus  ;  for  they  are  equally  scared  with  them  all.  Alas  ! 
what  could  poor  Niobe  ever  say  that  could  be  so  reflecting 
upon  the  honor  of  Latona,  as  that  which  superstition 
makes  fools  believe  of  her  ?  Niobe,  it  seems,  had  given 
her  some  hard  words,  for  which  she  fairly  shot  her 

Six  daughters,  and  six  sons  full  in  their  prime  ;  t 

so  impatient  was  she,  and  insatiate  with  the  calamities  of 
another.  Now  if  the  Goddess  was  really  thus  choleric 
and  vindictive  and  so  highly  incensed  with  bad  language, 
and  if  she  had  not  the  wisdom  to  smile  at  human  frailty 
and  ignorance,  but  suffered  herself  to  be  thus  transported 
with  passion,  I  much  marvel  she  did  not  shoot  them  too 
that  told  this  cruel  story  of  her,  and  charged  her  both  in 
speech  and  writing  with  so  much  spleen  and  rancor.  We 
oft  accuse  Queen  Hecuba  of  barbarous  and  savage  bitter¬ 
ness,  for  having  once  said  in  Homer, — 

Would  God  I  had  his  liver  ’twixt  my  teeth 

yet  the  superstitious  believe,  if  a  man  taste  of  a  minnow  or 

*  I  leave  Mr.  Baxter’s  conjectural  version  of  this  corrupt  passage,  instead  of 
inserting  another  equally  conjectural.  As  to  the  original  Greek,  hardly  a  word  can 
be  made  out  with  certainty.  (Gy 
t  II.  XXIV.  604. 


♦  n.  XXIV.  212. 


OR  INDISCREET  DEVOTION. 


41 


bleak,  the  Syrian  Goddess  will  eat  his  shins  through,  fill 
his  body  with  sores,  and  dissolve  his  liver. 

11.  Is  it  a  sin  then  to  speak  amiss  of  the  Gods,  and  is 
it  not  to  think  amiss  of  them  1  And  is  not  thinking  the 
cause  of  speaking  ilH  For  the  only  reason  of  our  dislike 
to  detraction  is  that  we  look  upon  it  as  a  token  of  ill-will 
to  us  ;  and  we  therefore  take  those  for  our  enemies  that 
misrepresent  us,  because  we  look  upon  them  as  un trusty 
and  disaffected.  You  see  then  what  the  superstitious 
think  of  the  divinity,  while  they  fancy  the  Gods  such 
heady,  faithless,  fickle,  revengeful,  cruel,  and  fretful  things. 
The  consequence  of  which  is  that  the  superstitious  person 
must  needs  both  fear  and  hate  them  at  once.  And  indeed, 
how  can  he  otherwise  choose,  while  he  thinks  the  greatest 
calamities  he  either  doth  now  or  must  hereafter  undergo 
.are  wholly  owing  to  them  ]  Now  he  that  both  hates  and 
fears  the  Gods  must  of  necessity  be  their  enemy.  And  if 
he  trembles,  fears,  prostrates,  sacrifices,  and  sits  perpetually 
in  their  temples,  that  is  no  marvel  at  all.  For  the  very 
worst  of  tyrants  are  complimented  and  attended,  yea,  have 
statues  of  gold  erected  to  them,  by  those  who  in  private 
hate  them  and  wag  their  heads.  Hermolaus  waited  on 
Alexander,  and  Pausanias  was  of  Philip’s  guard,  and  so 
was  Chaerea  of  Caligula’s  ;  yet  every  one  of  these  said,  I 
warrant  you,  in  his  heart  as  he  went  along,  — 

Had  I  a  power  as  my  will  is  good, 

Know  this,  bold  tyrant,  I  would  have  thy  blood.* 

The  atheist  believes  there  are  no  Gods  ;  the  superstitious 
would  have  none,  but  is  a  believer  against  his  will,  and 
would  be  an  infidel  if  he  durst.  He  would  be  as  glad  to 
ease  himself  of  the  burthen  of  his  fear,  as  Tantalus  would 
be  to  slip  his  head  from  under  the  great  stone  that  hangs 
over  him,  and  would  bless  the  condition  of  the  atheist  as 


*  H.  XXII.  20. 


42 


OF  SUPERSTITION 


absolute  freedom,  compared  with  his  own.  The  atheist 
now  has  nothing  to  do  with  superstition ;  while  the  super¬ 
stitious  is  an  atheist  in  his  heart,  but  is  too  much  a  coward 
to  think  as  he  is  inclined. 

12.  Moreover,  atheism  hath  no  hand  at  all  in  causing 
superstition  ;  but  superstition  not  only  gave  atheism  its 
first  birth,  but  serves  it  ever  since  by  giving  it  its  best 
apology  for  existing,  which,  although  it  be  neither  a  good 
nor  a  fair  one,  is  yet  the  most  specious  and  colorable.  Tor 
men  were  not  at  first  made  atheists  by  any  fault  they  found 
in  the  heavens  or  stars,  or  in  the  seasons  of  the  year,  or  in 
those  revolutions  or  motions  of  the  sun  about  the  earth 
that  make  the  day  and  night ;  nor  yet  by  observing  any 
mistake  or  disorder  either  in  the  breeding  of  animals  or 
the  production  of  fruits.  No,  it  was  the  uncouth  actions 
and  ridiculous  and  senseless  passions  of  superstition,  her 
canting  words,  her  foolish  gestures,  her  charms,  her  magic, 
her  freakish  processions,  her  taborings,  her  foul  expiations, 
her  vile  methods  of  purgation,  and  her  barbarous  and  in¬ 
human  penances,  and  bemirings  at  the  temples,  —  it  was 
these,  I  say,  that  gave  occasion  to  many  to  affirm,  it  would 
be  far  happier  there  were  no  Gods  at  all  than  for  them 
to  be  pleased  and  delighted  with  such  fantastic  toys,  and  to 
thus  abuse  their  votaries,  and  to  be  incensed  and  pacified 
with  trifles. 

13.  Had  it  not  been  much  better  for  the  so  much  famed 
Gauls  and  Scythians  to  have  neither  thought  nor  imagined 
nor  heard  any  thing  of  their  Gods,  than  to  have  believed 
them  such  as  would  be  pleased  with  the  blood  of  human 
sacrifices,  and  would  account  such  for  the  most  complete 
and  meritorious  of  expiations  1  How  much  better  had  it 
been  for  the  Carthaginians  to  have  had  either  a  Critias  or 
a  Diagoras  for  their  first  lawmaker,  that  so  they  might 
have  believed  in  neither  God  nor  spirits,  than  to  make  such 
offerings  to  Saturn  as  they  made  ?  —  not  such  as  Empedo- 


OR  INDISCREET  DEVOTION. 


43 


cles  speaks  of,  where  he  thus  touches  the  sacrifices  of 
beasts :  — 


The  sire  lifts  up  his  dear  beloved  son, 

Who  first  some  other  form  and  shape  did  take  ; 

He  doth  liirn  slay  and  sacrifice  anon, 

And  therewith  vows  and  foolish  prayers  doth  make. 

But  they  knowingly  and  wittingly  themselves  devoted  their 
own  children ;  and  they  that  had  none  of  their  own 
bought  of  some  poor  people,  and  then  sacrificed  them  like 
lambs  or  pigeons,  the  poor  mother  standing  by  the  while 
without  either  a  sigh  or  tear  ;  and  if  by  chance  she  fetched 
a  sigh  or  let  fall  a  tear,  she  lost  the  price  of  her  child, 
but  it  was  nevertheless  sacrificed.  All  the  places  round 
the  image  were  in  the  mean  time  filled  with  the  noise  of 
hautboys  and  tabors,  to  drown  the  poor  infants’  crying. 
Suppose  we  now  the  Typhons  and  Giants  should  depose 
the  Gods  and  make  themselves  masters  of  mankind,  what 
sort  of  sacrifices,  think  you,  would  they  expect?  Or  what 
other  expiations  would  they  require  ?  The  queen  of  King 
Xerxes,  Amestris,  buried  twelve  men  alive,  as  a  sacrifice  to 
Pluto  to  prolong  her  own  life ;  and  yet  Plato  saith,  This 
God  is  called  in  Greek  Hades,  because  he  is  placid,  wise, 
and  wealthy,  and  retains  the  souls  of  men  by  persuasion 
and  oratory.  That  great  naturalist  Xenophanes,  seeing 
the  Egyptians  beating  their  breasts  and  lamenting  at  the 
solemn  times  of  their  devotions,  gave  them  this  pertinent 
and  seasonable  admonition :  If  they  are  Gods  (said  he), 
don’t  cry  for  them  ;  and  if  ^they  are  men,  don’t  sacrifice  to 
them. 

14.  There  is  certainly  no  infirmity  belonging  to  us  that 
contains  such  a  multiplicity  of  errors  and  fond  passions,  or 
that  consists  of  such  incongruous  and  incoherent  opinions, 
as  this  of  superstition  doth.  It  behooves  us  therefore  to 
do  our  utmost  to  escape  it ;  but  withal,  we  must  see 
we  do  it  safely  and  prudently,  and  not  rashly  and  incon- 


44 


OF  SUPERSTITION. 


siderately,  as  people  run  from  the  incursions  of  robbers 
or  from  fire,  and  fall  into  bewildered  and  untrodden 
paths  full  of  pits  and  precipices.  For  so  some,  while 
they  would  avoid  superstition,  leap  over  the  golden 
mean  of  true  piety  into  the  harsh  and  coarse  extreme 
of  atheism. 


CONSOLATION  TO  APOLLONIUS. 


1.  As  soon,  Apollonius,  as  I  heard  the  news  of  the  un¬ 
timely  death  of  your  son,  who  was  very  dear  to  us  all,  I 
fell  sick  of  the  same  grief  with  you,  and  shared  your  misfor¬ 
tune  with  all  the  tenderness  of  sympathy.  For  he  was  a 
sweet  and  modest  young  man,  devout  towards  the  Gods, 
obedient  to  his  parents,  and  obliging  to  his  friends ;  indeed 
doing  all  things  that  were  just.  But  when  the  tears  of  his 
funeral  were  scarcely  dry,  I  thought  it  a  time  very  improper 
to  call  upon  you  and  put  you  in  mind  that  you  should  bear 
this  accident  like  a  man  ;  for  when  this  unexpected  afflic¬ 
tion  made  you  languish  both  in  body  and  mind,  I  considered 
then  that  compassion  was  more  seasonable  than  advice.  For 
the  most  skilful  physicians  do  not  put  a  sudden  stop  to  a 
flux  of  humors,  but  give  them  time  to  settle,  and  then  fo¬ 
ment  the  swelling  by  softening  and  bringing  it  to  a  head 
with  medicines  outwardly  applied. 

2.  So  now  that  a  competent  time  is  past  —  time  which 
brings  all  things  to  maturity  —  since  the  first  surprise  of 
your  calamity,  I  believed  I  should  do  an  acceptable  piece 
of  friendship,  if  I  should  now  comfort  you  with  those 
reasons  which  may  lessen  your  grief  and  silence  your 
complaints. 

Soft  words  alleviate  a  wounded  heart, 

If  you  in  time  will  mitigate  the  smart.* 


*  Aesch.  Prom.  378. 


46 


CONSOLATION  TO  APOLLONIUS. 


Euripides  hath  said  wisely  to  this  purpose :  — 

Our  applications  should  suited  be 
Unto  the  nature  of  the  malady  ; 

Of  sorrow  we  should  wipe  the  tender  eyes, 

But  the  immoderate  weeper^hould  chastise 

For  of  all  the  passions  which  move  and  afflict  the  mind  of 
man,  sorrow  in  its  nature  is  the  most  grievous ;  in  some 
they  say  it  hath  produced  madness,  others  have  contracted 
incurable  diseases,  and  some  out  of  the  vehemence  of  it 
have  laid  violent  hands  upon  themselves. 

3.  Therefore  to  be  sad,  even  to  an  indisposition,  for  the 
death  of  a  son  proceeds  from  a  principle  of  nature,  and  it  is 
out  of  our  power  to  prevent  it.  I  dislike  those  who  boast 
so  much  of  hard  and  indexible  temper  which  they  call  apa¬ 
thy,  it  being  a  disposition  which  never  happens  and  never 
could  be  of  use  to  us ;  for  it  would  extinguish  that  soci¬ 
able  love  we  ought  to  have  for  one  another,  and  which  it  is 
so  necessary  above  all  things  to  preserve.  But  to  mourn 
excessively  and  to  accumulate  grief  I  do  affirm  to  be 
altogether  unnatural,  and  to  result  from  a  depraved  opinion 
we  have  of  things ;  therefore  we  ought  to  shun  it  as  de¬ 
structive  in  itself,  and  unworthy  of  a  virtuous  man ;  but  to 
be  moderately  affected  by  grief  w'e  cannot  condemn.  It 
were  to  be  wished,  saith  Grantor  the  Academic,  that  we 
could  not  be  sick  at  all ;  but  when  a  distemper  seizeth 
us,  it  is  requisite  we  should  have  sense  and  feeling  in  case 
any  of  our  members  be  plucked  or  cut  off.  For  that  talked- 
of  apathy  can  never  happen  to  a  man  without  great  detri¬ 
ment  ;  for  as  now  the  body,  so  soon  the  very  mind  would 
be  wild  and  savage.  ^ 

4.  Therefore  in  such  accidents,  it  is  but  reasonable  that 
they  who  are  in  their  right  senses  should  avoid  both  ex¬ 
tremes,  of  being  without  any  passion  at  all  and  of  having 
too  much ;  for  as  the  one  argues  a  mind  that  is  obstinate 
and  fierce,  so  the  other  doth  one  that  is  soft  and  effeminate. 


CONSOLATION  TO  APOLLONIUS. 


47 


He  therefore  hath  cast  up  his  accounts  the  best,  who,  con¬ 
fining  himself  within  due  bounds,  hath  such  ascendant  over 
his  temper,  as  to  bear  prosperous  and  adverse  fortune  with 
the  same  equality,  whichsoever  it  is  that  happens  to  him 
in  this  life.  He  puts  on  those  resolutions  as  if  he  were  in  ' 
a  popular  government  where  magistracy  is  decided  by  lot ; 
if  it  luckily  falls  to  his  share,  he  obeys  his  fortune,  but  if 
it  passeth  him,  he  doth  not  repine  at  it.  So  we  must  sub¬ 
mit  to  the  dispensation  of  human  affairs,  without  being 
uneasy  and  querulous.  Those  who  cannot  do  this  want 
prudence  and  steadiness  of  mind  to  bear  more  happy  cir¬ 
cumstances  ;  for  amongst  other  things  which  are  prettily 
said,  this  is  one  remarkable  precept  of  Euripides :  — 

If  Fortune  prove  extravagantly  kind, 

Above  its  temper  do  not  raise  thy  mind ; 

If  she  disclaims  thee  like  a  jilting  dame, 

Be  not  dejected,  but  be  still  the  same, 

Like  gold  unchanged  amidst  the  hottest  flame. 

For  it  is  the  part  of  a  wise  and  well-educated  man,  not 
to  be  transported  beyond  himself  with  any  prosperous 
events,  and  so,  when  the  scene  of  fortune  changeth,  to 
observe  still  the  comeliness  and  decency  of  his  morals.  For 
it  is  the  business  of  a  man  that  lives  by  rule,  either  to  pre¬ 
vent  an  evil  that  threatens  him,  or,  when  it  is  come,  to 
qualify  its  malignity  and  make  it  as  little  as  he  can,  or  put 
on  a  masculine  brave  spirit  and  so  resolve  to  endure  it. 
For  there  are  four  ways  that  prudence  concerns  herself 
about  any  thing  that  is  good ;  she  is  either  industrious  to 
acquire  or  careful  to  preserve,  she  either  augments  or 
useth  it  well.  These  are  the  measures  of  prudence,  and 
consequently  those  of  all  other  virtues,  by  which  we  ought 
to  square  ourselves  in  either  fortune. 

For  no  man  lives  who  always  happy  is.* 

And,  by  Jove,  you  should  not  hinder  what  ought  to  be 
done,  — 

♦  From  the  Stheneboea  of  Euripides,  Frag.  G  j2. 


48 


CONSOLATION  TO  APOLLONIUS. 


Those  tilings  which  in  their  nature  ought  to  be.* 

5.  For,  as  amongst  trees  some  are  very  thick  with  fruit, 
and  some  bear  none  at  all ;  amongst  living  creatures  some 
are  very  prolific,  and  some  barren ;  and  as  in  the  sea  there 
is  alternate  vicissitude  of  calms  and  tempests,  so  in  human 
life  there  are  many  and  various  circumstances  which  dis¬ 
tract  a  man  into  divers  changes  of  fortune.  One  consider¬ 
ing  this  matter  hath  not  said  much  from  the  purpose : 

Think  not  thyself,  O  Atreus’  son,  forlorn ; 

Thou  always  to  be  happy  wast  not  born. 

Even  Agamemnon’s  self  must  be  a  shade, 

For  thou  of  frail  materials  art  made. 

Sorrow  and  joy  alternately  succeed ; 

’Spite  of  thy  teeth,  the  Gods  have  so  decreed.! 

These  verses  are  Menander’s. 

If  thou,  0  Trophimus,  of  all  mankind, 

Uninterrupted  happiness  couldst  find  ; 

If  when  thy  mother  brought  thee  forth  with  pain. 

Didst  this  condition  of  thy  life  obtain. 

That  only  prosperous  gales  thy  sails  should  fill. 

And  all  things  liappen  ’cording  to  thy  will ;  » 

If  any  of  the  Gods  did  so  engage, 

Such  usage  justly  might  provoke  thy  rage. 

Matter  for  smart  resentment  might  afford. 

For  the  false  Deity  did  break  his  word. 

But  if  thou  unexcepted  saw’st  the  light. 

Without  a  promise  of  the  least  delight, 

I  say  to  thee  (gravely  in  tragic  style) 

Thou  ought  to  be  more  patient  all  the  while. 

In  short,  —  and  to  say  more  there’s  no  one  can,— 

Which  is  a  name  of  frailty,  thou’rt  a  man ; 

A  creature  more  rejoicing  is  not  found. 

None  more  dejected  creeps  upon  the  ground. 

Though  weak,  yet  he  in  politics  refines. 

Involves  himself  in  intricate  designs  ; 

With  nauseous  business  he  himself  doth  cloy. 

And  so  the  pleasure  of  his  life  destroy. 

In  great  pursuits  thou  never  hast  been  cross’d 
No  disappointments  have  thy  projects  lost ; 

Nay,  such  hath  been  the  mildness  of  thy  fate. 

Hast  no  misfortune  had  of  any  rate  ; 

If  Fortune  is  at  any  time  severe. 

Serene  and  undisturbed  thou  must  appear. 

t  Eurip.  Iph.  Aul.  29. 


♦  From  Euripides. 


CONSOLATION  TO  APOLLONIUS. 


49 


But  though  this  be  the  state  of  all  sublunary  things,  yet 
such  is  the  extravagant  pride  and  folly  of  some  men,  that  if 
they  are  raised  above  the  common  by  the  greatness  of  their 
riches  or  functions  of  magistracy,  or  if  they  arrive  to  any 
eminent  charge  in  the  commonwealth,  they  presently  swell 
with  the  titles  of  their  honor,  and  threaten  and  insult  over 
their  inferiors  ;  never  considering  what  a  treacherous  God¬ 
dess  Fortune  is,  and  how  easy  a  revolution  it  is  for  things 
that  are  uppermost  to  be  thrown  down  from  their  height  and 
for  humble  things  to  be  exalted,  and  that  these  changes  of 
Fortune  are  performed  quickly  and  in  the  swiftest-  moments 
of  time.  To  seek  for  any  certainty  therefore  in  that  which 
is  uncertain  is  the  part  of  those  who  judge  not  aright  of 
things :  — 

Like  to  a  wheel  that  constantly  goes  round, 

One  part  is  up  whilst  t’other’s  on  the  ground. 

6.  But  the  most  sovereign  remedy  against  sorrow  is  our 
reason,  and  out  of  this  arsenal  we  may  arm  ourselves  with 
defence  against  all  the  casualties  of  life  ;  for  every  one  ought 
to  lay  down  this  as  a  maxim,  that  not  only  is  he  himself 
mortal  in  his  nature,  but  life  itself  decays,  and  things  are 
easily  changed  into  quite  the  contrary  to  what  they  are ; 
for  our  bodies  are  made  up  of  perishing  ingredients.  Our 
fortunes  and  our  passions  too  are  subject  to  the  same  mortal¬ 
ity  ;  indeed  all  things  in  this  world  are  in  perpetual  flux,  — 

Which  no  man  can  avoid  with  all  his  care.* 

It  is  an  expression  of  Pindar,  that  we  are  held  to  the 
dark  bottom  of  hell  by  necessities  as  hard  as  iron.  And 
Euripides  says :  — 

No  worldly  wealth  is  firm  and  sure ; 

But  for  a  day  it  doth  endure.f 

And  also :  — 

From  small  beginnings  our  misfortunes  grow, 

•  And  little  rubs  our  feet  do  overthrow  ; 

A  single  day  is  able  down  to  cast 

Some  things  from  height,  and  others  raise  as  fast.J 

♦  B.  XII.  327.  t  Eurip.  Phoeniss.  558.  f  From  the  Ino  of  Euripides. 


50 


CONSOLATION  TO  APOLLONIUS. 


Demetrius  Phalereus  affirms  that  this  was  truly  said,  but 
that  the  poet  had  been  more  in  the  right  if  for  a  single  day 
he  had  put  only  a  moment  of  time. 

For  earthly  fruits  and  mortal  men’s  estate 
Turn  round  about  in  one  and  selfsame  rate  ; 

Some  live,  wax  strong,  and  prosper  day  by  day. 

While  others  are  cast  down  and  fade  away.* 

And  Pindar  hath  it  in  another  place, 

What  are  we,  what  are  we  not  ? 

Man  is  but  a  shadow’s  dream.t 

He  used  an  artificial  and  very  perspicuous  hyperbole  to 
draw  human  life  in  its  genuine  colors  ;  for  what  is  weaker 
than  a  shadow  ]  Or  what  words  can  be  found  out  whereby 
to  express  a  shadow’s  dream  ?  Grantor  hath  something 
consonant  to  this,  when,  condoling  Hippocles  upon  the  loss 
of  his  children,  he  speaks  after  this  manner :  — 

“  These  are  the  things  which  all  the  old  philosophers 
talk  of  and  have  instructed  us  in  ;  which  though  Ave  do 
not  agree  to  in  every  particular,  yet  this  hath  too  sharp  a 
truth  in  it,  that  our  life  is  painful  and  full  of  difficulties ; 
and  if  it  doth  not  labor  Avith  them  in  its  OAvn  nature,  yet 
Ave  ourselves  have  infected  it  Avith  that  corruption.  For 
the  inconstancy  of  Fortune  joined  us  at  the  beginning  of 
our  journey,  and  hath  accompanied  us  ever  since  ;  so  that 
it  can  produce  nothing  that  is  sound  or  comfortable  unto  us  ; 
and  the  bitter  potion  Avas  mingled  for  us  as  soon  as  Ave  Avere 
born.  For  the  principles  of  our  nature  being  mortal  is  the 
cause  that  our  judgment  is  depraved,  that  diseases,  cares, 
and  all  those  fatal  inconveniences  afflict  mankind.” 

But  Avhat  need  of  this  digression  ?  Only  that  Ave  may 
be  made  sensible  that  it  is  no  unusual  thing  if  a  man  be 
unfortunate  r  but  Ave  are  all  subject  to  the  same  calamity. 
For  as  Theophrastus  saith.  Fortune  surpriseth  us  unaAvares, 
robs  us  of  those  things  Ave  have  got  by  the  SAveat  of  our 


*  From  the  Ino  of  Euripides. 


t  Pindar,  Pyth.  VIII.  136. 


CONSOLATION  TO  APOLLONIUS. 


51 


industry,  and  spoils  the  gaudy  appearance  of  a  prosperous 
condition ;  and  this  she  doth  when  she  pleaseth,  not  being  ^ 
stinted  to  any  periods  of  time.  These  and  things  of  the  like 
nature  it  is  easy  for  a  man  to  ponder  Avith  himself,  and  to 
hearken  to  the  sayings  of  ancient  and  wise  men;  among 
whom  divine  Homer  is  the  chief,  who  sung  after  this 
manner :  — 

Of  all  that  breathes  or  grovelling  creeps  on  earth, 

Most  man  is  vain  !  calamitous  by  birth : 

To-day,  with  power  elate,  in  strength  he  blooms  ; 

The  haughty  creature  on  that  power  presumes  ; 

Anon  from  Heaven  a  sad  reverse  he  feels  ; 

Untaught  to  bear,  ’gainst  Heaven  the  wretch  rebels. 

For  man  is  changeful,  as  his  bliss  or  woe  ; 

Too  high  when  prosperous,  when  distress’d  too  low.* 

And  in  another  place  :  — 

What  or  from  whence  I  am,  or  who  my  sire 

(Replied  the  chief),  can  Tydeus’  son  enquire  ? 

Like  leaves  on  trees  the  race  of  man  is  found. 

Now  green  in  youth,  now  withering  on  the  ground ; 

Another  race  the  following  spring  supplies  ; 

They  fall  successive,  and  successive  rise. 

So  generations  in  their  course  decay ; 

So  flourish  these,  when  those  are  past  away.f 

How  prettily  he  managed  this  image  of  human  life 
appears  from  Avhat  he  hath  said  in  another  place :  — 

For  what  is  man  ?  Calamitous  by  birth. 

They  owe  their  life  and  nourishment  to  earth  ; 

Like  yearly  leaves,  that  now  with  beauty  crown’d. 

Smile  on  the  sun,  now  wither  on  the  ground.J 

When  Pausanias  the  king  of  Sparta  was  frequently  brag¬ 
ging  of  his  performances,  and  bidding  Simonides  the  lyric 
poet  in  raillery  to  give  him  some  wise  precept,  he,  know¬ 
ing  the  vain-glory  of  him  that  spoke,  admonished  him  to 
remember  that  he  was  a  man.  Philip  the  king  of  Mace- 
don,  when  he  had  received  three  despatches  of  good  news 
at  the  same  time,  of  which  the  first  was  that  his  chariots 

t  n.  VI.  145. 


*  Odyss.  XVIII.  130. 
t  II.  XXL  463. 


52 


CONSOLATION  TO  APOLLONIUS. 


had  won  the  victory  in  the  Olympic  games,  the  second,  that 
his  general  Parmenio  had  overcome  the  Dardanians  in  fight, 
and  the  third,  that  his  wife  Olympias  had  brought  him  forth 
an  heir,  —  lifting  up  his  eyes  to  heaven,  he  passionately  cried 
out.  Propitious  Daemon!  let  the  affliction, be  moderate  by 
which  thou  intendest  to  be  even  with  me  for  this  compli¬ 
cated  happiness.  Theramenes,  one  of  the  thirty  tyrants 
of  Athens,  when  he  alone  was  preserved  from  the  ruins  of 
a  house  that  fell  upon  the  rest  of  his  friends  as  they  were 
sitting  at  supper,  and  all  came  about  him  to  congratulate 
him  on  his  escape,  —  broke  out  in  an  emphatical  accent. 
Fortune  !  for  what  calamity  dost  thou  reserve  me  ?  And 
not  long  after,  by  the  command  of  his  fellow-tyrants,  he  was 
tormented  to  death. 

7.  But  Homer  seems  to  indicate  a  particular  praise  to 
himself,  when  he  brings  in  Achilles  speaking  thus  to 
Priam,  who  was  come  forth  to  ransom  the  body  of 
Hector  :  — 

Rise  then ;  let  reason  mitigate  our  care  :  / 

To  mourn  avails  not :  man  is  born  to  bear. 

Such  is,  alas !  the  Gods’  severe  decree  : 

They,  only  they,  are  blest,  and  only  free. 

Two  urns  by  Jove’s  high  throne  have  ever  stood, 

The  source  of  evil  one,  and  one  of  good  ; 

From  thence  the  cup  of  mortal  man  he  fills, 

Blessings  to  these,  to  these  distributes  ills  ; 

To  most  he  mingles  both  ;  the  wretch  decreed 
To  taste  the  bad  unmix’d  is  cursed  indeed ; 

Pursued  by  wrongs,  by  meagre  famine  driven. 

He  wanders,  outcast  both  of  earth  and  heaven.* 

Hesiod,  who  was^  the  next  to  Homer  both  in  respect  of 
time  and  reputation,  and  who  professed  to  be  a  disciple  of 
the  Muses,  fancied  that  all  evils  were  shut  up  in  a  box, 
and  that  Pandora  opening  it  scattered  all  sorts  of  mischiefs 
through  both  the  earth  and  seas  :  — 

The  cover  of  the  box  she  did  remove, 

And  to  fly  out  the  (jrowding  mischief  strove ; 

But  slender  hope  upon  the  brims  did  stay, 


*  II.  XXIV.  522. 


CONSOLATION  TO  APOLLONIUS. 


53 


Ready  to  vanish  into  air  away  ; 

She  with  retrieve  the  haggard  in  did  put, 

And  on  the  prisoner  close  the  box  did  shut ; 

But  plagues  innumerable  abroad  did  fly, 

Infecting  all  the  earth,  the  seas,  and  sky. 

Diseases  now  with  silent  feet  do  creep. 

Torment  us  waking,  and  afflict  our  sleep. 

These  midnight  evils  steal  without  a  noise. 

For  Jupiter  deprived  them  of  their  voice.* 

8.  After  these  the  comedian,  talking  of  those  who  bear 
afflictions  uneasily,  speaks  consonantly  to  this  purpose :  — 

If  we  in  wet  complaints  could  quench  our  grief. 

At  any  rate  we’d  purchase  our  relief ; 

With  proffered  gold  would  bribe  off  all  our  fears. 

And  make  our  eyes  distil  in  precious  tears. 

But  the  Gods  mind  not  mortals  here  below, 

Nor  the  least  thought  on  our  affairs  bestow  ; 

But  with  an  unregarding  air  pass  by. 

Whether  our  cheeks  be  moist,  or  whether  dry. 

Unhappiness  is  always  sorrow’s  root. 

And  tears  do  hang  from  them  like  crystal  fruit.^ 

And  Dictys  comforts  Danae;  who  was  bitterly  taking  on, 
after  this  manner  :  — 

Dost  think  that  thy  repinings  move  the  grave, 

Or  from  its  jaws  thy  dying  son  can  save  ? 

If  thou  would’st  lessen  it,  thy  grief  compare  ;  — 

Consider  how  unhappy  others  are  ; 

How  many  bonds  of  slavery  do  hold ; 

How  many  of  their  children  robbed  grow  old ; 

How  sudden  Fate  throws  off"  th’  usurped  crown. 

And  in  the  dirt  doth  tread  the  tyrant  down. 

Let  this  with  deep  impression  in  thee  sink, 

And  on  these  revolutions  often  think.t 

He  bids  her  consider  the  condition  of  those  who  have 
suffered  equal  or  greater  afflictions,  and  by  such  a  parallel 
to  comfort  up  her  own  distempered  mind. 

9.  And  here  that  opinion  of  Socrates  comes  in  very  perti¬ 
nently,  who  thought  that  if  all  our  misfortunes  were  laid 
in  one  common  heap,  whence  every  one  must  take  an  equal 
portion,  most  people  would  be  contented  to  take  their  own 
and  depart.  After  this  manner  Antimachus  the  poet  allayed 


*  Hesiod,  Works  and  Days,  94. 


t  From  the  Danae  of  Euripides. 


54 


CONSOLATION  TO  APOLLONIUS. 


liis  grief  when  he  lost  his  wife  Lyde,  whom  he  tenderly 
loved ;  for  he  writ  an  elegy  upon  her,  which  he  called  by 
her  own  name,  and  in  it  he  numbered  up  all  the  calamities 
which  have  befallen  great  men  ;  and  so  by  the  remembrance 
of  other  men’s  sorrows  he  assuaged  his  own.  By  this  it 
may  appear,  that  he  who  comforts  another  who  is  macerat¬ 
ing  himself  with  grief,  and  demonstrates  to  him,  by  reck¬ 
oning  up  their  several  misfortunes,  that  he  suffers  nothing 
but  what  is  common  to  him  with  other  men,  takes  the  surest 
way  to  lessen  the  opinion  he  had  of  his  condition,  and 
brings  him  to  believe  that  it  is  not  altogether  so  bad  as  he 
took  it  to  be. 

10.  Aeschylus  also  doth  justly  reprimand  those  who 
think  death  to  be  an  evil,  declaring  after  this  manner:  — 

Some  as  a  thing  injurious  death  do  fly ; 

But  of  all  mischiefs  ’tis  the  remedy. 

♦ 

And  he  who  spoke  thus  very  nicely  imitated  him :  — 

Come,  with  impatience  I  expect  thee,  Death  ; 

And  stop  with  thy  obliging  hand  my  breath  : 

To  thee  as  a  physician  all  resort. 

And  we  through  tempests  sail  into  thy  port. 

And  it  is  great  to  speak  this  sentence  with  courage :  — 

Where  is  the  slave  who  never  fears  to  die  ?  * 

Or  this :  — 

And  shadows  never  scare  me,  thanks  to  hell. 

But  what  is  it  at  length  in  death,  that  is  so  grievous  and 
troublesome?  For  I  know  not  how  it  comes  to  pass  that, 
when  it  is  so  familiar  and  as  it  were  related  to  us,  it  should 
seem  so  terrible.  How  can  it  be  rational  to  wonder,  if  that 
cleaves  asunder  which  is  divisible,  if  that  melts  whose 
nature  is  liquefaction,  if  that  burns  which  is  combustible, 
and  so,  by  a  parity  of  reason,  if  that  perisheth  which  by 
nature  is  perishable?  For  w'hen  is  it  that  death  is  not  in 
us  ?  For,  as  Heraclitus  saith,  it  is  the  same  thing  to  be 


♦  From  Euripides. 


CONSOLATION  TO  APOLLONIUS. 


55 


dead  and  alive,  asleep  and  awake,  a  young  man  and  de¬ 
crepit  ;  for  these  alternately  are  changed  one  into  another. 
For  as  a  potter  can  form  the  shape  of  an  animal  out  of  his 
clay  and  then  as  easily  deface  it,  and  can  repeat  this  back¬ 
wards  and  forwards  as  often  q,s  he  pleaseth,  so  Nature  too 
out  of  the  same  materials  fashioned  first  our  grandfathers, 
next  our  fathers,  then  us,  and  in  process  of  time  will  en¬ 
gender  others,  and  again  others  upon  these.  For  as  the 
flood  of  our  generation  glides  on  without  any  intermission 
and  will  never  stop,  so  in  the  other  direction  the  stream 
of  our  corruption  flows  eternally  on,  whether  it  be  called 
Acheron  or  Cocytus  by  the  poets.  So  that  the  same  cause 
which  first  showed  us  the  light  of  the  sun  carries  us  down 
to  infernal  darkness.  And  in  my  mind,  the  air  which  en- 
compasseth  us  seems  to  be  a  lively  image  of  the  thing ;  for 
it  brings  on  the  vicissitudes  of  night  and  day,  life  and 
death,  sleeping  and  waking.  For  this  cause  it  is  that  life 
is  called  a  fatal  debt,  which  our  fathers  contracted  and  we 
are  bound  to  pay ;  which  is  to  be  done  calmly  and  without 
any  complaint',  when  the  creditor  demands  it ;  and  by  this 
means  we  shall  show  ourselves  men  of  sedate  passions. 

11.  And  I  believe  Nature,  knowing  the  confusion  and 
shortness  of  our  life,  hath  industriously  concealed  the  end 
of  it  from  us,  this  making  for  our  advantage.  For  if  we 
were  sensible  of  it  beforehand,  some  would  pine  away  with 
untimely  sorrow,  and  would  die  before  their  death  came. 
For  she  saw  the  woes  of  this  life,  and  with  what  a  torrent 
of  cares  it  is  overflowed,  —  which  if  thou  didst  undertake 
to  number,  thou  wouldst  grow  angry  with  it,  and  confirm 
that  opinion  which  hath  a  vogue  amongst  some,  that  death 
is  more  desirable  than  life.  Simonides  hath  glossed  upon 
it  after  this  manner :  — 

Our  time  is  of  a  short  and  tender  length, 

Cares  we  have  many,  and  but  little  strength  ; 

Labors  in  crowds  push  one  another  on, 

And  cruel  destiny  we  cannot  shun. 


56 


CONSOLATION  TO  APOLLONIUS. 


The  casting  of  these  lots  is  very  just, 

For  good  and  bad  lie  in  one  common  dust. 

Pindar  hath  it  so :  — 

The  Gods  unequal  have  us  mortals  vexed. 

For  to  one  good,  two  evils  are  annexed  : 

They  pay  a  single  joy  with  double  care, 

And  fools  such  dispensations  cannot  bear.* 

Sophocles  so :  — 

Why  at  a  mortal’s  death  dost  thou  complain  ? 

Thou  know’st  not  what  may  be  his  future  gain. 

And  Euripides  so :  — 

Dost  thou  not  know  the  state  of  human  things  ? 

A  faithful  monitor  thy  instruction  brings. 

Inevitable  death  hangs  o’er  our  head. 

And  threatens  falling  by  a  doubtful  thread. 

There’s  no  man  can  be  certain  over  night. 

If  he  shall  live  to  see  to-morrow’s  light. 

Life  without  any  interruption  flows, 

And  the  results  of  fate  there’s  no  man  knows.f 

If  then  the  condition  of  human  life  is  such  as  they  speak 
of,  why  do  we  not  rather  applaud  their  good  fortunes  who 
are  freed  from  the  drudgery  of  it,  than  pity  and  deplore 
them,  as  some  men’s  folly  prompts  them  to  do] 

12.  Socrates  said  that  death  was  like  either  to  a  very 
deep  sleep,  or  to  a  journey  taken  a  great  way  and  for  a 
long  time,  or  else  to  the  utter  extinction  of  soul  and  body  ; 
and  if  we  examine  each  of  these  comparisons,  he  said,  we 
shall  find  that  death  is  not  an  evil  upon  any  account.  For 
if  death  is  sleep,  and  no  hurt  happens  to  those  who  are  in 
that  innocent  condition,  it  is  manifest  that  neither  are  the 
dead  ill  dealt  with.  To  what  purpose  should  I  talk  of  that 
which  is  so  tritely  known  amongst  all,  that  the  most  pro¬ 
found  sleep  is  always  the  sweetest  ]  Homer  J  particularly 
attests  it :  — 

His  senses  all  becalmed,  he  drew  his  breath. 

His  sleep  was  sound,  and  quiet  like  to  death. 

*  Pindar,  Pyth.  Ill,  145.  t  Eurip.  Alcestis,  792. 

.  t  See  Odyss.  XIII.  80;  and  II.  XIV.  231 ;  XVI.  672;  XI.  241. 


CONSOLATION  TO  APOLLONIUS. 


57 


And  in  many  places  he  saith  thus,  — 

She  met  Death’s  brother,  Sleep.  — 

And  again,  — 

Twin  brothers,  Sleep  and  Death,  — 

thereby  representing  the  similitude  (as  it  were)  to  the 
sight,  for  twins  especially  indicate  similarity.  And  in 
another  place  he  saith,  Death  is  brazen  sleep,  thereby 
intimating  to  us  that  it  is  insensible.  Neither  hath  he 
spoken  much  amiss  who  calls  sleep  the  lesser  mysteries 
of  death ;  for  sleep  is  really  the  first  initiation  into  the 
mysteries  of  death. 

Diogenes  the  Cynic,  when  a  little  before  his  death  he  fell 
into  a  slumber,  and  his  physician  rousing  him  out  of  it 
asked  him  whether  any  thing  ailed  him,  wisely  answered. 
Nothing,  sir,  only  one  brother  anticipates  another,  —  Sleep 
before  Death. 

13.  If  death  be  like  a  journey,  neither  upon  this  account 
is  it  an  evil,  but  rather  the  contrary ;  for  certainly  it  is  the 
emphasis  of  happiness  to  be  freed  from  the  incumbrances 
of  the  flesh  and  all  those  troublesome  passions  which  attend 
it,  which  serve  only  to  darken  the  understanding,  and  over¬ 
spread  it  with  all  the  folly  that  is  incident  to  human 
nature. 

“  The  very  body,”  saith  Plato,  “  procures  us  infinite  dis¬ 
quiet  only  to  supply  its  daily  necessities  with  food  ;  but  if  any 
diseases  are  coincident,  they  hinder  our  contemplations,  and 
stop  us  in  our  researches  after  truth.  Besides,  it  distracts 
us  with  irregular  desires,  fears,  and  vain  amours,  setting 
before  us  so  many  fantastic  images  of  things,  that  the  com¬ 
mon  saying  is  here  most  true,  that  on  account  of  the  body 
we  can  never  become  wise.  For  wars,  popular  seditions, 
and  shedding  of  blood  by  the  sword  are  owing  to  no  other 
original  than  this  care  of  the  body  and  gratifying  its  licen¬ 
tious  appetites ;  for  we  fight  only  to  get  riches,  and  these 


58 


CONSOLATION  TO  APOLLONIUS. 


we  acquire  only  to  please  the  body ;  so  that  those  who  are 
thus  employed  have  not  leisure  to  be  philosophers.  And 
after  all,  when  we  have  retrieved  an  interval  of  time  to 
seek  after  truth,  the  body  officiously  interrupts  us,  is  so 
troublesome  and  importune,  that  we  can  by  no  means  dis¬ 
cern  its  nature.  Therefore  it  is  evident  that,  if  we  will 
clearly  know  any  thing,  we  must  divest  ourselves  of  the 
body,  and  behold  things  as  they  are  in  themselves  with  the 
mind  itself,  that  at  last  we  mav  attain  what  we  so  much 
desire,  and  what  we  do  profess  ourselves  the  most  partial 
admirers  of,  which  is  wisdom.  And  this  we  cannot  con¬ 
summately  enjoy  till  after  death,  as  reason  teacheth  us. 
For  if  so  be  that  we  can  understand  nothing  clearly  as  long 
as  w'e  are  clogged  with  flesh,  one  of  these  things  must 
needs  be,  either  that  we  shall  never  arrive  at  that  knowl¬ 
edge  at  all,  or  only  when  we  die ;  for  then  the  soul  will 
exist  by  itself,  separate  from  the  body ;  and  whilst  we  are 
in  this  life,  we  shall  make  the  nearest  advances  towards  it, 
if  we  have  no  more  to  do  with  the  body  than  what  decency 
and  necessity  require,  if  we  break  off  all  commerce  with  it, 
and  keep  ourselves  pure  from  its  contagion,  till  God  shall 
give  us  a  final  release,  and  then  being  pure  and  freed  from 
all  its  follies,  we  shall  converse  (it  is  likely)  with  intelli¬ 
gences  as  pure  as  ourselves,  with  our  unaided  vision  be¬ 
holding  perfect  purity,  —  and  this  is  truth  itself.  For  it  is 
not  fit  that  what  is  pure  should  be  apprehended  by  what  is 
impure.”  * 

Therefore,  if  death  only  transports  us  to  another  place, 
it  is  not  to  be  looked  upon  as  an  evil,  but  rather  as  an  ex¬ 
ceeding  good,  as  Plato  hath  demonstrated.  The  words  of 
Socrates  to  his  judges  seem  to  me  to  be  spoken  even  with 
inspiration :  “  To  fear  death,  gentlemen,  is  nothing  else  than 
to  counterfeit  the  being  wise,  when  we  are  not  so.  For 
he  that  fears  death  pretends  to  know  what  he  is  ignorant 


♦  Plat.  Phaed.  pp.  66  B  —  67  B. 


CONSOLATION  TO  APOLLONIUS. 


59 


of ;  for  no  man  is  certain  whether  death  be  not  the  greatest 
good  that  can  befall  a  man,  but  they  positively  dread  it  as 
if  they  were  sure  it  was  the  greatest  of  evils.”  Agreeably 
to  this  said  one  after  this  manner :  — 

Let  no  man  fear  what  doth  his  labors  end ;  — 

and  death  sets  us  free  even  from  the  greatest  evils. 

14.  The  Gods  themselves  bear  witness  to  the  truth  of 
this,  for  many  have  obtained  death  as  a  gratuity  from  them. 
The  less  famous  instances  I  will  pass  by,  that  I  may  not  be 
prolix,  and  only  mention  those  who  are  the  most  celebrated 
and  in  all  men’s  mouths.  And  in  the  first  place,  I  will  re¬ 
late  what  befell  Biton  and  Cleobis,  two  young  men  of 
Argos.  They  report  that  their  mother  being  the  priestess 
of  Juno,  and  the  time  being  come  that  she  was  to  go  up  to 
the  temple  to  perform  the  rites  of  the  Goddess,  and  those 
whose  office  it  was  to  draw  her  chariot  tarrying  longer  than 
usual,  these  two  young  men  harnessed  themselves  and  took 
it  up,  and  so  carried  their  mother  to  the  temple.  She,  be¬ 
ing  extremely  taken  with  the  piety  of  her  sons,  petitioned 
the  Goddess  that  she  would  bestow  upon  them  the  best 
present  that  could  be  given  to  men ;  accordingly  she  cast 
them  into  that  deep  sleep  out  of  which  they  never  awoke, 
taking  this  way  to  recompense  their  filial  zeal  with  death. 
Pindar  writes  of  Agamedes  and  Trophonius,  that  after  they 
had  built  a  temple  at  Delphi,  they  requested  of  Apollo  a 
reward  for  their  work.  It  was  answered  them  that  they 
should  have  it  within  seven  days,  but  in  the  mean  while 
they  were  commanded  to  live  freely  and  indulge  their 
genius ;  accordingly  they  obeyed  the  dictate,  and  the 
seventh  night  they  died  in  their  beds.  It  is  said  also  of 
Pindar,  that  when  the  deputies  of  the  Boeotians  were  sent 
to  consult  the  oracle,  he  desired  them  to  enquire  of  it 
which  was  the  best  thing  amongst  men,  and  that  the 
Priestess  of  the  tripod  gave  them  this  answer,  —  that  he 


60 


CONSOLATION  TO  APOLLONIUS. 


could  not  be  ignorant  of  it,  if  he  was  the  author  of  those 
writings  concerning  Agamedes  and  Trophonius ;  but  if  he 
desired  personally  to  know,  it  should  in  a  little  time  be 
made  manifest  to  him ;  and  that  Pindar  hearing  this  pre¬ 
pared  himself  for  the  stroke  of  Fate,  and  died  in  a  short 
time  after.  Of  Euthynous  the  Italian  there  is  this  memo¬ 
rable  story,  that  he  died  suddenly,  without  anybody’s 
knowing  the  cause  of  his  death.  His  father  was  Elysius 
the  Terinean,  who  was  a  man  of  the  first  condition  for  his 
estate  and  virtue,  being  rich  and  honorable,  and  this  being 
his  only  son  and  heir  to  all  his  fortune,  which  was  very 
great,  he  had  a  strong  jealousy  upon  him  that  he  was 
poisoned,  and  not  knowing  how  he  should  come  to  the  in¬ 
formation  of  it,  he  went  into  the  vault  where  they  invoke 
the  dead,  and  after  having  offered  sacrifice,  as  it  is  enjoined 
by  the  law,  he  slept  in  the  place  ;  when  all  things  were  in 
a  midnight  silence,  he  had  this  vision.  His  father  appeared 
to  him,  to  whom  after  having  related  his  lamentable  mis¬ 
fortune,  he  earnestly  desired  the  ghost  that  he  would  assist 
him  in  finding  out  the  cause.  He  answered  that  he  was 
come  on  purpose  to  do  it.  But  first,  saith  he,  receive  from 
this  one  what  he  hath  brought  thee,  and  thereby  thou  wilt 
understand  the  reason  of  all  tliy  sorrow.  The  person  that 
the  father  meant  was  very  like  to  Euthynous  both  for  years 
and  stature  ;  and  the  question  being  put  to  him  who  he 
was,  he  answered,  I  am  the  genius  of  thy  son ;  and  at  the 
same  time  he  reached  out  a  book  to  him,  which  he  opened 
and  found  these  verses  Avritten  therein  :  — 

^Tis  ignorance  makes  wretched  men  to  err ; 

Fate  did  to  happiness  thy  son  prefer. 

By  destined  death  Euthynous  seized  we  see ; 

So  Twas  the  better  both  for  him  and  thee. 

These  are  the  stories  which  the  ancients  tell  us. 

15.  But  lastly,  if  death  be  the  entire  dissipation  of  soul 
and  body  (which  was  the  third  part  of  Socrates’s  compari- 


CONSOLATION  TO  APOLLONIUS. 


61 


son),  even  then  it  cannot  be  an  evil.  For  this  would 
produce  a  privation  of  sense,  and  consequently  a  complete 
freedom  from  all  solicitude  and  care  ;  and  if  no  good,  so  no 
evil  would  befall  us.  For  good  and  evil  alike  must  by 
nature  inhere  in  that  which  has  existence  and  essence; 
but  to  that  which  is  nothing,  and  wholly  abolished  out  of 
the  nature  of  things,  neither  of  the  two  can  belong.  There¬ 
fore,  when  men  die,  they  return  to  the  same  condition  they 
were  in  before  they  were  born.  For  as,  before  we  came 
into  the  world,  we  were  neither  sensible  of  good  nor  afflict¬ 
ed  with  evil,  so  it  will  be  when  we  leave  it ;  and  as  those 
things  which  preceded  our  birth  did  not  concern  us,  so 
neither  will  those  things  which  are  subsequent  to  our 
death :  — 

The  dead  secure  from  sorrow  safe  do  lie, 

’Tis  the  same  thing  not  to  be  born  and  die.* 

For  it  is  the  same  state  of  existence  after  death  as  it  was 
before  we  were  born.  Unless  perhaps  you  will  make  a 
difference  between  having  no  being  at  all  and  the  utter  ex¬ 
tinction  of  it,  after  the  same  manner  that  you  make  a 
distinction  between  an  house  and  a  garment  after  they  are 
ruined  and  worn  out,  and  at  the  time  before  the  one  was 
built  and  the  other  made.  And  if  in  this  case  there  is  no 
difference,  it  is  plain  that  there  is  none  between  the  state  be¬ 
fore  we  were  born  and  that  after  we  are  dead.  It  is  elegantly 
said  by  Arcesilaus,  that  death,  which  is  called  an  evil,  hath 
this  peculiarly  distinct  from  all  that  are  thought  so,  that 
when  it  is  present  it  gives  us  no  disturbance,  but  when 
remote  and  in  expectation  only,  it  is  then  that  it  afflicts  us. 
And  indeed  many  out  of  the  poorness  of  their  spirit,  having 
entertained  most  injurious  opinions  of  it,  have  died  even 
to  prevent  death.  Epicharmus  hath  said  excellently  to  this 
purpose :  “  It  was  united,  it  is  now  dissolved ;  it  returns 
back  whence  it  came,  —  earth  to  earth,  the  spirit  to  re- 


*  From  Aeschylus. 


62 


CONSOLATION  TO  APOLLONIUS. 


gions  above.  What  in  all  this  is  grievous  ?  Nothing  at 
all.”  But  that  which  Cresphontes  in  Euripides  saith  of 
Hercules,  — 

For  if  he  dwells  below,  beneath  the  earth, 

With  those  whose  life  is  gone,  his  strength  is  nought, 

I  would  have  changed  into  these  words,  — 

For  if  he  dwells  below,  beneath  the  earth, 

With  those  whose  life  is  gone,  his  woes  are  o^er. 

This  Laconic  too  is  very  noble :  — 

Others  before  and  after  us  will  be. 

Whose  age  we’re  not  permitted  e’er  to  see. 

And  again :  — 

These  neither  did  live  handsomely  nor  die. 

Though  both  should  have  been  done  with  decency. 

But  Euripides  hath  spoken  incomparably  well  of  those  who 
labor  under  daily  indispositions  :  — 

I  hate  the  man  who  studies  to  defeat 
The  power  of  death  with  artificial  meat. 

To  baffle  and  prevent  his  fate  does  think. 

And  lengthens  out  his  life  with  magic  drink. 

Whereas,  when  he  a  burden  doth  become. 

Then  he  should  die,  because  he’s  troublesome. 

Old  age  in  modesty  should  then  give  place. 

And  so  make  way  unto  a  brisker  race.* 

But  Merope  moved  the  passion  of  the  theatre  with  these 
maseuline  expressions :  — 

My  sons  by  death  are  ravished  from  my  side, 

And  I’m  a  widow,  who  was  once  a  bride. 

I  am  not  thus  selected  to  be  crossed. 

Others  their  sons  and  husbands  too  have  lost.f 

And  we  may  not  incongruously  add  these  :  — 

What  is  become  of  that  magnificence  ? 

Where  is  King  Croesus  wdth  his  opulence? 

Or  where  is  Xerxes  with  his  mighty  pride. 

Who  with  a  bridge  did  curb  the  raging  tide  ? 

Inhabitants  of  darkness  they  became. 

And  now  are  living  only  in  their  fame. 

Their  riches  have  perished  with  their  bodies. 


♦  Eurip.  Suppliants,  1109. 


t  From  the  Cresphontes  of  Euripides. 


CONSOLATION  TO  APOLLONIUS. 


63 


16.  Yes,  we  may  say,  but  an  untimely  death  from  many 
doth  extort  groans  and  passionate  complaints.  But  the  way 
to  dry  up  these  sorrows  is  so  expedite  and  easy,  that  every 
vulgar  poet  hath  prescribed  it.  Consider  what  consolation 
a  comedian  puts  in  the  mouth  of  one  who  comforts  another 
upon  so  sad  an  occasion  :  — 

If  this  with  certainty  thou  could’st  have  known, 

That  Fortune  always  would  have  kindness  shown. 

That  nothing  but  what’s  good  would  him  befall, 

His  death  thou  justly  might’st  untimely  call. 

But  if  calamities  were  imminent, 

And  Death  the  fatal  mischief  did  prevent,  - 
To  give  to  things  the  character  that’s  due. 

Death  was  the  most  obliging  of  the  two. 

It  therefore  being  uncertain  whether  it  was  for  his  ad¬ 
vantage  that  he  departed  this  life  and  was  freed  from  all 
the  miseries  that  attend  it,  we  had  therebv  lost  all  that  we 
fancied  we  could  enjoy  in  him  whilst  he  was  living.  And 
Amphiaraus  in  the  poet  doth  not  do  amiss  when  he  consoles 
the  mother  of  Archemorus,  who  was  even  sick  with  grief 
for  the  untimely  death  of  her  infant  son.  He  speaks  :  — 

There  is  no  man  whom  sorrow  doth  not  seize  ; 

Our  children  die  while  others  we  beget. 

At  last  we  die  ourselves,  and  mortals  grieve 
As  they  give  dust  to  dust ;  but  human  life 
Must  needs  be  reaped  like  a  full  crop  of  corn. 

One  man  must  live,  another  die  :  why  weep 
For  this,  which  by  necessity  must  be  1 
There  is  no  hardship  in  necessity.* 

17.  In  general,  every  one  should  meditate  seriously  with 
himself,  and  have  the  concurrence  of  other  men’s  opinions 
with  his  own,  that  it  is  not  the  longest  life  which  is  the  best, 
but  that  which  is  the  most  virtuous.  For  that  musician  is 
not  to  be  commended  who  plays  upon  variety  of  instruments, 
nor  that  orator  that  makes  multiplicity  of  speeches,  nor  the 
pilot  that  conducts  many  ships,  but  he  of  each  faculty  that 
doth  one  of  them  well ;  for  the  beauty  of  a  thing  doth  not 


*  From  the  Hypsipyle  of  Euripides. 


64 


CONSOLATION  TO  APOLLONIUS. 


consist  in  length  of  time,  but  in  the  vu’tue  and  seasonable 
moderation  wherewith  it  is  transacted.  This  is  that  which 
is  called  happy  and  grateful  to  the  Gods.  And  for  this  reason 
it  is  that  poets  celebrate  those  who  have  died  before  they 
have  become  old,  and  propose  them  for  examples,  as  the  most 
excellent  men  and  of  divine  extraction,  as  him  for  instance. 

Beloved  by  Jove  and  him  who  gilds  the  skies, 

Yet  short  his  date  of  life.* 

And  we  see  in  every  thing  that  preference  is  not  given 
so  much  to  age  as  to  maturity.  For  amongst  trees  and 
plants,  those  are  accounted  the  most  generous  which  bring 
forth  abundance  of  fruit,  and  that  early  ripe.  And  amongst 
living  creatures  too,  those  are  the  most  valued  which  supply 
us  with  the  accommodations  of  life  in  a  short  time.  Be 
sides,  if  we  compare  the  space  of  our  life  with  eternity, 
w^e  shall  find  no  difference  betwixt  long  and  short ;  for 
according  to  Simonides,  thousands  and  millions  of  years  are 
but  as  a  point  to  what  is  infinite,  or  rather  the  smallest  part 
of  that  point.  They  report  that  about  Pontus  there  are 
some  creatures  of  such  an  extempore  being  that  the  whole 
term  of  their  life  is  confined  within  the  space  of  a  day ; 
for  they  are  brought  forth  in  the  morning,  are  in  the  prime 
of  their  existence  at  noon,  grow  old  at  night,  and  then  die. 
Dost  thou  not  think  that  if  these  had  the  soul  and  reason 
of  a  man,  they  would  be  so  affected,  and  that  things  would 
happen  to  them  after  the  same  manner  as  to  us  ?  —  that 
those  who  died  before  the  meridian  would  be  lamented 
with  tears  and  groans  ?  —  and  that  we  should  call  them 
happy  who  lived  their  day  out]  For  the  measure  of  a 
man’s  life  is  the  well  spending  of  it,  and  not  the  length. 

18.  But  such  exclamations  as  this,  “  the  young  man  ought 
not  to  be  taken  off  so  abruptly  in  the  vigor  of  his  years,” 
are  very  frivolous,  and  proceed  from  a  great  weakness  of 
mind ;  for  who  is  it  that  can  say  what  a  thing  ought  to  be  ] 


*  Odys8.  XV.  245. 


CONSOLATION  TO  APOLLONIUS. 


65 


But  things  have  been,  are,  and  will  be  done,  which  some¬ 
body  or  other  will  say  ought  not  to  be  done.  But  we  do 
not  come  into  this  life  to  be  dogmatical  and  prescribe  to  it ; 
but  we  must  obey  the  dictates  of  the  Gods  who  govern  the 
world,  and  submit  to  the  establishments  of  Fate  and 
Providence. 

19.  But  when  they  mourn  over  those  who  die  so  untimely, 
do  they  do  it  upon  their  own  account,  or  upon  that  of  the 
deceased  1  If  upon  their  own,  because  they  have  lost  that 
pleasure  they  thought  they  should  have  enjoyed  in  them,  or 
are  deprived  of  that  profit  they  expected  or  that  relief  they 
flattered  themselves  they  should  receive  from  them  in  their 
old  age,  then  self-love  and  personal  interest  prescribe  the 
measures  of  their  sorrow ;  so  that  upon  the  result  they  do 
net  love  the  dead  so  much  as  themselves  and  their  own 
interest.  But  if  they  lament  upon  the  account  of  the  de¬ 
ceased,  that  is  a  grief  easily  to  be  shaken  off,  if  they  only 
consider  that  by  their  very  death  they  will  be  out  of  the 
sphere  of  any  evil  that  can  reach  them,  and  believe  the 
wise  and  ancient  saying,  that  we  should  always  augment 
what  is  good,  and  extenuate  the  evil.  Therefore  if  grief 
is  a  good  thing,  let  us  enlarge  and  make  it  as  great  as  we 
can  ;  but  if  it  is  numbered  amongst  the  evils,  as  in  truth  it 
ought  to  be,  let  us  endeavor  all  we  can  to  suppress  it,  make 
it  as  inconsiderable  as  we  can,  and  at  last  utterly  efiface  it. 
How  easy  this  is  to  be  done,  I  will  make  appear  by  an  il¬ 
lustrious  example  of  consolation.  They  say  that  an  ancient 
philosopher  came  to  the  Queen  Arsinoe,  who  was  then  sor¬ 
rowful  for  the  death  of  her  son,  and  discoursed  her  after 
this  manner:  “  At  the  time  that  Jupiter  distributed  hon¬ 
ors  amongst  his  under-deities,  it  happened  that  Grief  was 
absent ;  but  he  came  at  last  when  all  the  dignities  were 
disposed  of,  and  then  desired  that  he  might  have  some 
share  in  the  promotions.  Jupiter,  having  no  better  vacan¬ 
cies  left,  bestowed  upon  him  sorrow  and  funeral  tears.”  He 


66 


CONSOLATION  TO  APOLLONIUS. 


made  this  inference  from  the  story :  “  Therefore,”  saith 
he,  ‘‘  as  other  daemons  love  and  frequent  those  who  give 
them  hospitable  reception,  so  sadness  will  never  come  near 
you,  if  you  do  not  give  it  encouragement ;  but  if  you 
caress  it  with  those  particular  honors  which  it  challengeth 
as  its  due,  which  are  sighs  and  tears,  it  will  have  an  unlucky 
affection  for  you,  and  will  always  supply  you  with  fresh 
occasion  that  the  observance  may  be  continued.”  By  this 
plausible  speech  he  seems  in  a  wonderful  manner  to  have 
buoyed  this  great  woman  out  of  her  tears,  and  to  have  made 
her  cast  off  her  veil. 

20.  In  short,  I  would  ask  the  mourner  whether  he 
designs  to  put  an  end  to  his  grief,  or  to  allow  the  anguish 
to  have  the  same  duration  with  his  life.  If  this  thou  hast 
resolved,  I  must  say  thou  hast  cut  out  for  thyself  the  most 
bitter  infelicity  in  the  world,  and  all  through  the  stupidity 
and  softness  of  thy  mind ;  but  if  thou  wilt  ever  make  a 
change,  why  dost  thou  not  make  it  now,  and  so  free  thyself 
from  misery  ?  Apply  now  the  same  reasons  thou  must  use 
a  great  while  hence,  to  unburden  thy  mind  and  ease  thy 
afflictions  ;  and  as  in  bodily  distempers  the  quickest  remedy 
is  the  best,  so  bestow  the  advantage  thou  must  otherwise 
allow  to  time  upon  reason  and  instruction,  and  so  cease  to 
be  unhappy. 

21.  But  it  is  objected,  the  calamity  was  sudden,  and  I  did 
not  expect  it.  But  thou  oughtest  to  have  done  it,  and  con¬ 
sidered  the  vanity  and  uncertainty  of  human  affairs,  that  thy 
enemies  might  not  have  come  suddenly  upon  thee  and  taken 
thee  unawares.  Theseus  in  Euripides  seems  to  be  excel¬ 
lently  w^ell  prepared  for  events  of  this  nature,  for  he  saith 
thus :  — 

This  wholesome  precept  from  the  wise  I  learn, 

To  think  of  misery  without  concern. 

My  meditating  thoughts  are  always  spent 
Either  on  death  or  else  on  banishment. 

Foresight  of  evils  doth  employ  my  mind. 


CONSOLATION  TO  APOLLONIUS. 


67 


That  me  without  defence  they  may  not  find ; 

And  though  in  ambuscade  the  mischief  lies, 

Kill  me  it  may,  but  shall  not  me  surprise.* 

But  those  who  are  of  a  degenerate  and  thoughtless  spirit 
never  apply  their  mind  to  any  thing  that  is  either  useful  or 
becoming ;  but  they  grow  exorbitant  in  their  sorrows,  and 
afflict  the  innocent  body,  making  it  sick  for  company,  as 
Achaeus  expresseth  it. 

22.  Therefore  Platof  doth  rightly  instruct  us  to  acqui¬ 
esce  in  cases  of  this  nature,  when  it  is  not  manifest  whether 
they  be  good  or  evil,  and  when  we  get  nothing  by  being 
uneasy  under  them ;  for  grief  is  the  greatest  obstacle  to 
deliberation  as  to  what  is  best  to  be  done.  Therefore  he 
commands  us,  as  in  the  casting  of  dice,  to  accommodate 
ourselves  to  what  befalls  us,  in  the  way  which  reason  shows 
us  to  be  best ;  and  when  any  thing  ails  us,  not  to  imitate 
the  folly  of  children,  who  presently  cry  out  and  clap  their 
hands  to  the  place  affected,  but  to  accustom  our  minds 
to  seek  at  once  for  remedies  which  may  restore  the  part 
that  is  diseased  to  its  first  tone  of  health,  making  lamenta¬ 
tion  give  place  to  the  healing  art.  He  that  instituted  laws 
for  the  Lycians  commanded  the  citizens  that  when  they 
mourned  they  should-  put  on  women’s  apparel,  intimating 
thereby  that  sorrow  was  an  effeminate  thing,  and  therefore 
was  not  fit  for  men  of  temper  and  liberal  education.  For 
it  is  indeed  a  weak  and  unmanly  passion,  and  women  are 
more  subject  to  it  than  men,  the  barbarians  more  than  the 
Greeks,  and  the  dregs  of  mankind  more  than  the  refined 
part  of  them  ;  and  even  amongst  the  barbarians,  the  brave- 
spirited  Celts  and  Gauls  have  not  a  propensity  to  it,  or  any 
that  have  generous  sentiments ;  but  the  Egyptians,  the 
Syrians,  and  the  Lydians,  and  those  who  resemble  them 
in  the  softness  of  their  disposition.  They  report  that  some 
of  these  will  hide  themselves  in  retirements  under  ground, 

*  See  the  Latin  version  in  Cicero,  Tusc.  III.  14,  29. 
t  Plato,  Repub.  X.  p.  604  B. 


68 


CONSOLATION  TO  APOLLONIUS. 


and  refuse  to  behold  that  sun  of  which  their  lamented 
friend  is  deprived.  Ion,  the  tragedian,  who  heard  some¬ 
thing  of  this  extravagance,  introduceth  a  person  speaking 
after  this  manner  :  — 

Your  blooming  children’s  nurse,  I  have  come  forth  ’ 

A  suppliant  from  the  caves  where  I  have  mourned. 

Some  of  these  barbarians  have  deformed  their  bodies  by 
cutting  off  their  noses,  ears,  and  other  parts  of  themselves, 
thinking  to  gratify  the  dead  by  these  mutilations,  when  in 
doing  so  they  deviated  excessively  from  that  moderation 
which  Nature  prescribes  us. 

23.  And,  by  Jove,  we  meet  with  some  persons  who  affirm 
that  the  death  of  every  one  is  not  to  be  lamented,  but  only 
of  those  who  die  untimely ;  for  they  have  not  tasted  of 
those  things  which  we  call  enjoyments  in  the  world,  as  a 
nuptial  bed,  proficiency  in  learning,  the  coming  up  to  an 
height  in  any  thing,  the  honor  of  magistracy  and  charges 
in  the  government.  It  is  for  the  sake  of  these  things  that 
we  condole  with  those  who  lose  friends  by  untimely  death, 
because  they  were  frustrated  of  their  hopes ;  but  m  the 
meanwhile  we  are  ignorant  that  a  sudden  death  doth  not 
at  all  differ  from  any  other,  considering  the  condition  of 
human  nature.  For  as  when  a  journey  is  enjoined  into  a 
remote  country,  and  there  is  a  necessity  for  every  one  to 
undertake  it,  and  none  hath  liberty  to  refuse,  though  some 
go  before  and  others  follow,  yet  all  must  arrive  at  the  same 
stage  at  last ;  so  when  we  all  lie  under  an  obligation  of 
discharging  the  same  debt,  it  is  not  material  whether  we 
pay  sooner  or  later.  But  if  any  one’s  death  may  be  called 
untimely,  and  consequently  an  evil,  that  appellation  suits 
only  with  that  of  children  and  infants,  and  especially  of 
those  who  are  newly  born.  But  this  w^e  bear  steadfastly 
and  with  patience ;  but  when  those  that  are  grown  up  die, 
we  take  on  heavily,  because  we  fondly  hoped  that  when 
their  years  were  fuU  blown  they  would  then  have  an  unin- 


CONSOLATION  TO  APOLLONIUS. 


69 


teiTupted  state  of  health.  Now  if  the  age  of  man  were 
limited  to  the  space  of  twenty  years,  we  should  not  think 
that  he  who  had  arrived  to  fifteen  died  an  untimely  death, 
but  that  he  had  filled  up  a  just  measure  of  living ;  but  one 
that  had  attained  twenty,  or  at  least  had  approached  very 
near  it,  we  should  applaud  for  his  good  fortune,  as  if  he  had 
enjoyed  the  most  happy  and  perfect  life  in  the  world.  So 
if  life  were  prolonged  to  two  hundred  years  as  its  fixed 
period,  and  any  one  died  at  a  hundred,  we  should  howl 
over  him  as  if  he  had  been  hastily  cut  off. 

24.  It  is  manifest  then,  by  what  hath  been  said  now  and 
what  hath  been  mentioned  before,  that  the  death  we  call 
untimely  is  capable  of  consolation  ;  and  the  saying  is  true, 
that  “  Troilus  wept  less  than  Priam,”  ^  perishing  as  he  did  in 
his  youth,  while  his  father’s  kingdom  flourished  and  his 
riches  abounded,  which  Priam  afterwards  laments  as  most 
deplorably  lost.  For  observe  what  he  saith  to  his  son 
Hector,  when  he  entreats  him  to  decline  the  battle  he  was 
going  to  fight  against  Achilles :  — 

Yet  shun  Achilles  !  enter  yet  the  wall ; 

And  spare  thyself,  thy  father,  spare  us  all ! 

Save  thy  dear  life  ;  or,  if  a  soul  so  brave 
Neglect  that  thought,  thy  dearer  glory  save. 

Pity,  while  yet  I  live,  these  silver  hairs ; 

While  yet  thy  father  feels  the  woes  he  bears. 

Yet  curst  with  sense  !  a  wretch  whom  in  his  rage 
All  trembling  on  the  verge  of  helpless  age 
Great  Jove  has  placed,  sad  spectacle  of  pain  ! 

The  bitter  dregs  of  Fortune’s  cup  to  drain : 

To  fill  with  scenes  of  death  his  closing  eyes. 

And  number  all  his  days  by  miseries ! 

My  heroes  slain,  my  bridal  bed  o’erturn’d. 

My  daughters  ravish’d,  and  my  city  burn’d,  , 

My  bleeding  infants  dash’d  against  the  floor ; 

These  I  have  yet  to  see,  perhaps  yet  more  I 
Perhaps  even  I,  reserv’d  by  angry  Fate, 

The  last  sad  relic  of  my  ruin’d  state, 

(Dire  pomp  of  sovereign  wretchedness  !)  must  fall, 

*  Mefov  Tpu'iTiog  eduKpvaev  tj  Upcfifiog  is  a  saying  of  Callimachus,  as  we  learn  from 
Cicero,  Tusc.  I.  39 :  Quanquam  non  male  ait  Callimachus,  multo  saepius  lacrimaase^ 
Priamum  quam  Troilum.  (G.) 


70 


CONSOLATION  TO  APOLLONIUS. 


And  stain  the  pavement  of  my  regal  hall ; 

Where  famish’d  dogs,  late  guardians  of  my  door, 

Shall  lick  their  mangled  master’s  spatter’d  gore.  * 

But  when  the  Fates,  in  fulness  of  their  rage, 

Spurn  the  hoar  head  of  unresisting  age. 

In  dust  the  reverend  lineaments  deform, 

And  pour  to  dogs  the  life-blood  scarcel}’^  warm  ; 

This,  this  is  misery  !  the  last,  the  worst. 

That  man  can  feel,  —  man,  fated  to  be  cursed  ! 

He  said,  and  acting  what  no  words  can  say. 

Rent  from  his  head  the  silver  locks  away. 

With  him  the  mournful  mother  bears  a  part ; 

Yet  all  her  sorrows  turn  not  Hector’s  heart.* 

Having  then  so  many  examples  of  this  kind  before  thine 
eyes,  thou  oughtest  to  make  thyself  sensible  that  not  a  few 
have  been  saved  by  death  from  those  calamities  they  would 
certainly  have  fallen  into  had  they  lived  longer.  Content¬ 
ing  myself  with  those  I  have  related  already,  1  will  omit 
the  rest,  that  I  may  not  seem  tedious ;  and  these  are  suffi¬ 
cient  to  show  that  we  ought  not  to  abandon  ourselves  to  • 
violent  sorrow,  beyond  temper  and  the  bounds  of  nature. 

25.  Grantor  saith,  To  be  innocent  is  the  greatest  comfort 
in  afflictions.  I  assent  to  him,  and  affirm  that  it  is  the 
noblest  remedy.  Besides,  the  indication  of  our  love  to  the 
deceased  consists  not  in  grieving  ourselves  for  him,  but  in 
paying  respect  to  his  fame  by  honorable  remembrance. 
For  no  good  man  deserves  elegies,  but  panegyrics  ;  and  we 
should  rather  celebrate  his  loss  by  an  honorable  remem¬ 
brance,  than  lament  it;  and  offer  up  rather  first-fruits  of 
joy  to  the  Gods,  and  not  tears  which  sorrow  extorts  from 
us.  For  he  who  ceaseth  to  be  amongst  men  becomes  par¬ 
taker  of  a  divine  life,  is  free  from  the  servitude  of  the  body, 
and  all  those  solicitous  cares  which  they  who  are  embar¬ 
rassed  with  a  mortal  life  of  necessity  must  undergo  till  they 
have  finished  the  course  which  Providence  hath  marked 
out  for  them ;  and  this  life  Nature  hath  not  given  us  as  a 
perpetual  possession,  but  hath  clogged  it  with  restrictions 
and  conditions  of  fate. 


♦  II.  XXII.  66 


CONSOLATION  TO  APOLLONIUS.' 


71 


26.  Those  therefore  who  are  the  masters  of  their  reason 
ought  not  to  be  transported  by  the  death  of  friends  beyond 
the  limits  of  nature  and  a  just  moderation  unto  unprofit¬ 
able  and  barbarous  complaints,  and  so  wait  till  that  comes 
upon  them  which  hath  happened  to  many,  to  have  their 
vital  moisture  exhausted  before  their  tears,  and  to  be  car¬ 
ried  to  their  own  graves  in  those  mourning  weeds  they  put 
on  for  others,  where  their  sorrow  must  lie  buried  with 
those  evils  they  provoked  upon  themselves  by  their  own 
imprudence.  To  whom  that  of  Homer  may  be  appositelv 
applied :  — 

Whilst  others  they  lament  with  weeping  eyes, 

The  darkness  of  the  night  doth  them  surprise.* 

Wherefore  in  this  case  we  should  often  thus'  reason  with 
ourselves :  Shall  we  put  an  end  to  our  sorrow,  or  shall  we 
grieve  all  the  days  of  our  life '?  To  make  it  infinite  is  the 
last  degree  of  infatuation;  for  we  have  seen  those  who 
have  been  in  the  deepest  circumstances  of  dejection  to  be 
so  mitigated  by  time,  that  they  have  banqueted  upon  those 
tombs  which  before  they  could  not  endure  the  sight  of 
without  screeching  out  and  beating  their  breasts,  but  which 
they  can  now  dance  round  with  music  and  all  the  postures 
of  jollity.  Therefore  to  be  obstinate  in  our  grief  is  the 
resolution  of  madness.  If  then  thou  hast  purposed  within 
thyself  that  it  shall  have  an  end,  join  this  consideration 
with  it,  that  time  wfill  assuage  it  too ;  for  what  is  once 
done*  even  the  Deity  himself  cannot  unravel ;  therefore  that 
which  hath  happened  to  us  beyond  our  hope  and  contrary 
to  our  opinion  hath  palpably  shown  us  what  is  wont  from 
tlie  same  causes  to  befall  others.  What’s  the  result  then  ? 
Cannot  any  discipline  teach  us,  nor  cannot  we  reason  with 
ourselves ,  that  — 

The  earth  with  evils  doth  abound  ; 

As  many  in  the  sea  are  found  1 1 

*  See  H.  XXIII.  109  ;  Odyss.  1. 423.  t  Hesiod,  Works  and  Days.  94. 


72 


CONSOLATION  TO  APOLLONIUS. 


And  thus  likewise :  — 

The  Fates  have  so  encompassed  men  with  ills. 

That  even  the  wind  can  find  no  entrance  1 

27.  For  many,  as  Grantor  tells  us,  and  those  very  wise 
men,  not  now  but  long  ago  have  deplored  the  condition  of 
human  nature,  esteeming  life  a  punishment,  and  to  be  born 
a  man  the  highest  pitch  of  calamity ;  this,  Aristotle  tells  us, 
Silenus  declared  when  he  was  brought  captive  to  Midas. 

I  think  it  best  to  quote  the  expressions  of  the  philosopher 
himself,  in  his  book  entitled  Eudemus,  or  Of  the  Soul, 
wherein  he  speaks  after  this  manner  :  — 

“  Wherefore,  thou  best  and  happiest  of  mankind,  if  we 
think  those  blessed  and  happy  who  have  departed  this  life, 
then  it  is  not  only  unlawful  but  even  blasphemy  to  speak 
any  thing  that  is  false  or  contumelious  of  them,  since  they 
are  now  changed  into  a  better  and  more  refined  nature. 
And  this  my  opinion  is  so  old,  that  the  original  and  author 
of  it  is  utterly  unknown ;  but  it  hath  been  derived  down 
to  us  even  from  eternity,  so  established  is  the  truth  of  it. 
Besides,  thou  seest  what  is  so  familiar  in  men’s  mouths, 
and  hath  been  for  many  years  a  trite  expression.  What  is 
that,  saith  he  ?  He  answered  him :  It  is  best  not  to  be 
born  at  all ;  and  next  to  that,  it  is  more  eligible  to  die 
than  to  live  ;  and  this  is  confirmed  even  by  divine  testi¬ 
mony.  Pertinently  to  this  they  say  that  Midas,  after 
hunting,  asked  his  captive  Silenus  somewhat  urgently, 
what  was  the  most  desirable  thing  amongst  men.  At  first  ' 
he  would  return  no  answer,  but  was  obstinately  silent.  At 
last,  when  Midas  would  not  give  over  importuning  him,  he 
broke  out  into  these  words,  though  very  unwillingly :  ‘  Thou 
seed  of  an  evil  genius  and  precarious  offspring  of  hard 
fortune,  whose  life  is  but  for  a  day,  why  dost  thou  compel 
me  to  tell  thee  those  things  it  is  better  thou  wert  ignorant 
of  ?  For  those  live  the  least  disturbed  who  know  not  their 
misfortunes  ;  but  for  men,  the  best  for  them  is  not  to  be 


CONSOLATION  TO  APOLLONIUS. 


73 


born  at  all,  nor  to  be  made  partakers  of  the  most  excellent 
nature ;  not  to  be  is  best  for  both  sexes.  This  should 
have  the  first  place  in  our  choice  ;  and  the  next  to  this  is, 
when  we  are  born,  to  die  as  soon  as  we  can.’  It  is  plain 
therefore,  that  he  declared  the  condition  of  the  dead  to  be 
better  than  that  of  the  living.” 

I  could  bring  millions  of  examples  to  justify  this  topic, 
but  I  will  not  be  long. 

28.  We  are  not  therefore  to  lament  those  who  die  in 
the  bloom  of  their  years,  as  if  they  were  spoiled  of  things 
which  we  call  enjoyments  in  a  longer  life ;  for  it  is  uncer¬ 
tain,  as  we  have  often  said,  whether  they  are  deprived  of 
good  or  evil,  for  the  evil  in  the  world  far  exceeds  the  good. 
The  good  we  obtain  hardly  and  with  anxious  endeavor,  but 
the  evil  easily  befalls  us ;  for  they  say  evils  are  linked  to¬ 
gether,  and  by  a  mutual  dependence  of  causes  follow  one 
another,  but  the  good  lie  scattered  and  disjoined,  and  with 
great  difficulty  are  brought  within  the  compass  of  our  life. 
Therefore  we  seem  to  have  forgot  our  condition;  for  not 
only  is  it  true,  as  Euripides  hath  it,  that 

The  things  we  do  possess  are  not  our  own ;  * 

but  in  general  no  man  can  claim  a  strict  propriety  in  any 
thing  he  hath :  — 

When  Gods  do  riches  lend,  it  is  but  just 

That  when  they  please  we  should  resign  our  trust. 

"We  ought  not  therefore  to  take  it  amiss  if  they  demand 
those  things  which  they  lent  us  only  for  a  small  time ;  for 
even  your  common  brokers,  unless  they  are  unjust,  will  not 
be  displeased  if  they  are  called  upon  to  refund  their  pawns, 
and  if  one  of  them  is  not  altogether  so  ready  to  deliver 
them,  thou  mayst  say  to  him  without  any  injury.  Hast  thou 
forgot  that  thou  receivedst  them  upon  the  condition  to  re¬ 
store  them  1  The  same  parity  of  reason  holds  amongst  all 
men.  The  Gods  have  put  life  into  our  hands  by  a  fatal 

*  Eurip.  Phoeniss.  555. 


74 


CONSOLATION  TO  APOLLONIUS. 


necessity,  and  there  is  no  prefixed  time  when  what  is  so 
deposited  will  be  required  of  us,  as  the  brokers  know  not 
when  their  pawns  will  be  demanded.  If  therefore  any  one 
is  angry  when  he  is  dying  himself,  or  resents  the  death  of 
his  children,  is  it  not  very  plain,  that  he  hath  forgot  that 
he  himself  is  a  man  and  that  he  hath  begotten  children  as 
frail  as  himself]  For  a  man  that  is  in  his  wits  cannot  be 
ignorant  that  he  is  a  mortal  creature,  and  born  to  this  very 
end  that  he  must  die.  If  Niobe,  as  it  is  in  the  fable,  had 
had  this  sentence  always  at  hand,  that  she  must  at  length 
die,  and  could  not 

In  the  ever-flowering  bloom  of  youth  remain, 

Nor  loaded  with  children,  like  a  fruitful  tree. 

Behold  the  sun’s  sweet  light, — 

she  would  never  have  sunk  to  such  a  degree  of  desperation 
as  to  desire  to  throw  off  her  life  to  ease  the  burthen  of  her 
sorrow,  and  call  upon  the  Gods  to  hurry  her  into  the  ut¬ 
most  destruction.  There  are  two  sentences  inscribed  upon 
the  Delphic  oracle,  hugely  accommodated  to  the  usages  of 
man’s  life.  Know  thyself,  and  Nothing  too  much  ;  and  upon 
these  all  other  precepts  depend.  And  they  themselves 
accord  and  harmonize  with  each  other,  and  each  seems  to 
illustrate  the  energy  of  the  other ;  for  in  Know  thyself  is 
included  Nothing  too  much  ;  and  so  again  in  the  latter  is 
comprised  Know  thyself  And  Ion  hath  spoken  of  it 
thus :  — 

This  sentence,  Know  thyself,  is  but  a  word  ; 

But  only  Jove  himself  could  do  the  thing. 

And  thus  Pindar :  — 

This  sentence  briet.  Do  nothing  to  excess. 

Wise  men  have  always  praised  exceedingly. 

29.  He  therefore  that  hath  these  impressed  upon  his 
mind  as  the  precepts  of  the  Pythian  oracle,  can  easily 
conform  himself  to  all  the  affairs  of  life,  and  bear  them 
handsomely  ;  considering'  his  nature,  so  that  he  is  neither 
lifted  up  to  arrogance  upon  a  prosperous  event,  nor  when 


CONSOLATION  TO  APOLLONIUS. 


75 


an  adverse  happens,  is  dejected  into  complaint  through 
pusillanimity  and  that  fear  of  death  which  is  so  congenial 
to  us  ;  both  which  proceed  from  the  ignorance  of  those 
things  which  fall  out  in  human  life  by  necessity  and  fatal 
decree.  The  Pythagoreans  speak  handsomely  to  this  pur¬ 
pose  :  — 

Against  those  evils  thou  shouldest  not  repine, 

Wliich  are  inflicted  by  the  powers  divine. 

Thus  the  tragedian  Aeschylus :  — 

He  store  of  wisdom  and  of  virtue  hath. 

Whom  nothing  from  the  Gods  provokes  to  wrath. 

Euripides  thus  :  — 

He  that  is  passive  when  the  Fates  command 
Is  wise,  and  all  the  Gods  doth  understand. 

In  another  place  so :  — 

He  that  can  bear  those  things  which  men  befall, 

Him  wise  and  modest  we  may  justly  call. 

30.  But  many  there  are  who  blame  all  things ;  and 
whatsoever  unexpectedly  happens  to  them,  they  think  is 
procured  them  by  the  malignity  of  Fortune  and  the  spite 
of  some  evil  genius.  Wherefore  they  are  querulous  and 
cry  out  upon  every  occasion,  inveighing  against  the  bitter¬ 
ness  of  their  mishaps.  Their  complaints  we  may  not 
unfitly  obviate  with  this  expression,  — 

The  Gods  do  hurt  thee  not,  but  thou  thyself,  — 

even  thou  thyself  through  perverseness  and  want  of  good 
instruction.  And  by  reason  of  this  false  and  deceiving 
opinion  they  accuse  any  kind  of  death  ;  for  if  one  die 
upon  his  travel,  they  exclaim  after  this  manner  :  — 

The  wretch,  his  father  being  absent,  dies ; 

Nor  did  his  aged  mother  close  his  eyes.* 

If  he  die  in  his  own  country,  with  his  parents  about 
him,  they  lament  that  he  is  ravished  out  of  their  hands, 
and  hath  left  them  nothing  but  regret  for  his  loss.  If  he 


76 


CONSOLATION  TO  APOLLONIUS. 


t 


die  silent,  giving  them  no  instructions  at  parting,  they 
complain  thus :  — 

His  tender  dying  words  I  did  not  hear, 

Which  I  in  ray  remembrance  still  should  bear.* 

If  he  spoke  any  thing  before  he  breathed  out  his  soul, 
they  keep  those  last  accents  as  fuel  to  maintain  their 
sorrow  still  kindled.  If  he  die  a  sudden  death,  they  cry 
out  that  he  is  snatched  away ;  if  chronical  pains  waste  him, 
they  will  tell  you  that  the  slow  distemper  hath  emaciated 
him  to  death.  Thus  every  appearance,  take  it  which  way 
you  will,  is  sufficient  to  stir  up  your  complaints.  These 
things  the  poets  have  introduced,  and  the  chiefest  among 
them,  Homer,  who  sung  after  this  manner :  — 

As  a  poor  father,  helpless  and  undone, 

Mourns  o’er  the  ashes  of  an  only  son. 

Takes  a  sad  pleasure  the  last  bones  to  burn, 

And  pours  in  tears  ere  yet  they  close  the  urn.t 

And  whether  these  things  are  justly  lamented  doth  not  yet 
appear.  But  see  what  he  elsewhere  sings :  — »• 

Born  in  his  elder  years,  his  only  boy. 

Who  was  designed  his  riches  to  enjoy. J 

31.  Who  knows  but  that  the  Deity,  with  a  fatherly  prov¬ 
idence  and  out  of  tenderness  to  mankind,  foreseeing  what 
would  happen,  hath  taken  some  purposely  out  of  this  life 
by  an  untimely  death  ?  So  we  should  think  that  nothing 
has  befallen  them  which  they  should  have  sought  to  shun, — • 

For  nought  that  coraeth  by  necessity  is  hard,  H 

neither  of  those  things  which  fall  out  by  a  precedent 
ratiocination  or  a  subsequent.  And  many  by  a  timely 
death  have  been  withdrawn  from  greater  calamities  ;  so 
that  it  hath  been  good  for  some  never  to  have  been  born 
at  all ;  for  others,  that  as  soon  as  life  hath  been  blown  in  it 
should  be  extinguished ;  for  some,  that  they  should  live  a 
little  longer;  and  for  others  again,  that  they  should  be 

*  II.  XXIV.  744.  t  II.  XXIII.  222 ;  XVU.  37 

J  H.  IX.  482.  11  From  Euripides. 


CONSOLATION  TO  APOLLONIUS. 


11 


cropped  in  the  prime  of  their  youth.  These  several  sorts 
of  deaths  should  be  taken  in  good  part,  since  Fate  is 
inevitable.  Therefore  it  becomes  men  well  educated  to 
consider  that  those  who  have  paid  their  debt  to  mortality 
have  only  gone  before  us  a  little  time  ;  that  the  longest  life 
is  but  as  a  point  in  respect  of  eternity,  and  that  many  who 
have  indulged  their  sorrow  to  excess  have  themselves  fol¬ 
lowed  in  a  small  while  those  that  they  have  lamented, 
having  reaped  no  profit  out  of  their  complaints,  but  mace¬ 
rated  themselves  with  voluntary  afflictions.  Since  then 
the  time  of  our  pilgrimage  in  this  life  is  but  short,  we 
ought  not  to  consume  ourselves  with  sordid  grief,  and  so 
render  ourselves  unhappy  by  afflicting  our  minds  and 
tormenting  our  bodies  ;  but  we  should  endeavor  after  a 
more  m^nly  and  rational  sort  of  life,  and  not  associate  our¬ 
selves  with  those  who  will  be  companions  in  grief  and  by 
flattering  our  tears  will  only  excite  them  the  more,  but 
rather  with  those  who  will  diminish  our  grief  by  solemn 
and  generous  consolation.  And  we  ought  to  hear  and 
keep  in  our  remembrance  those  words  of  Homer  where¬ 
with  Hector  answers  Andromache,  comforting  her  after 
this  manner :  — 

Andromache,  my  soul’s  far  better  part, 

Why  with  untimely  sorrows  lieaves  thy  heart  I 
No  hostile  hand  can  antedate  my  doom, 

Till  Pate  condemns  me  to  the  silent  tomb. 

Fix’d  is  the  term  to  all  the  race  of  earth. 

And  such  the  hard  condition  of  our  birth  : 

No  force  can  then  resist,  no  flight  can  save. 

All  sink  alike,  the  fearful  and  the  brave.* 

Which  the  poet  expresseth  in  another  place  thus : 

The  thread  which  at  his  birth  for  him  was  spun.f 

32.  Having  these  things  fixed  in  our  minds,  all  vain  and 
fruitless  sorrow  will  be  superseded ;  the  time  that  we  have 
all  to  live  being  but  very  short,  we  ought  to  spare  and 


*  II.  VI.  486. 


t  n.  XX.  128. 


78 


CONSOLATION  TO  APOLLONIUS. 


Jiusband  it,  and  not  lay  it  out  too  prodigally  upon  sorrow, 
but  rather  spend  it  in  tranquillity,  deserting  the  mournful 
colors,  and  so  take  care  of  our  own  bodies,  and  consult  the 
safety  of  those  who  live  with  us.  It  is  requisite  that  we 
should  call  to  mind  what  reasons  we  urged  to  our  kinsmen 
and  friends  when  they  were  in  the  like  calamities,  when  we 
exhorted  them  to  suffer  these  usual  accidents  of  life  with  a 
common  patience,  and  bear  mortal  things  with  humanity ; 
lest  being  prepared  with  instructions  for  other  men’s  mis¬ 
fortunes,  we  reap  no  benefit  ourselves  out  of  the  remem¬ 
brance  of  those  consolations,  and  so  do  not  cure  our  minds 
by  the  sovereign  application  of  reason.  For  in  any  thing 
a  delay  is  less  dangerous  than  in  sorrow ;  and  when  by 
every  one  it  is  so  tritely  said,  that  he  that  procrastinates  in 
an  affair  contests  with  destruction,  I  think  the  character 
will  more  fitly  sit  upon  him  who  defers  the  removing  his 
troubles  and  the  perturbations  of  his  mind. 

33.  We  ought  also  to  cast  our  eyes  upon  those  conspic¬ 
uous  examples  who  have  borne  the  deaths  of  their  sons 
generously  and  with  a  great  spirit ;  such  as  were  Anaxa¬ 
goras  of  Clazomenae,  Demosthenes  of  Athens,  Dion  of 
Syracuse,  King  Antigonus,  and  many  others  who  have  lived 
either  in  our  times  or  in  the  memory  of  our  fathers.  They 
report  of  Anaxagoras  that,  when  he  was  reading  natural 
philosophy  to  his  pupils  and  reasoning  with  them,  sudden 
news  was  brought  him  of  the  death  of  his  son.  He  pres¬ 
ently  stopped  short  in  His  lecture,  and  said  this  to  his 
auditors,  I  knew  that  I  begot  my  son  mortal.  And  of 
Pericles,  who  was  surnamed  Olympius  for  his  wisdom  and 
the  strength  of  his  eloquence,  when  he  heard  that  both  his 
sons  were  dead,  Paralus  and  Xanthippus,  how  he  behaved 
himself  upon  this  accident  Protagoras  tells  us  in  these 
words.  “  When  his  sons,”  saith  he,  ‘‘  being  in  the  first  ver¬ 
dure  of  their  youth  and  handsome  lads,  died  within  eight 
days,  he  bore  the  calamity  without  any  repining  ;  for  he  was 


CONSOLATION  TO  APOLLONIUS. 


79 


of  a  pacific  temper,  from  whence  there  was  every  day  an 
accession  of  advantages  towards  the  making  him  happy,  the 
being  free  from  grief,  and  thereby  acquiring  a  great  repu¬ 
tation  amongst  his  fellow-citizens.  For  every  one  that  saw 
him  bear  this  calamity  with  so  brave  a  resolution  thought 
him  magnanimous,  and  indeed  entertained  an  higher  opin¬ 
ion  of  him  than  he  strictly  deserved ;  for  he  was  conscious 
to  himself  of  some  weakness  and  defects  in  cases  of  this 
nature.”  Now  after  he  had  received  the  news  of  the  death 
of  his  sons,  he  put  on  a  garland  according  to  the  custom 
of  his  country,  and  being  clothed  in  white,  he  made  an 
harangue  to  the  people,  was  the  author  of  safe  and  rational 
counsels,  and  stirred  up  the  courage  of  his  Athenians  to 
warlike  expeditions.  Chronicles  tell  us,  that  when  an  ex¬ 
press  came  out  of  the  field  to  Xenophon  the  Socratic  as  he 
was  sacrificing,  which  acquainted  him  that  his  son  perished 
in  the  fight,  he  pulled  the  garland  from  his  head,  and 
enquired  after  what  manner  he  fell  ;  and  it  being  told 
him  that  he  died  gallantly,  making  a  great  slaughter  of 
his  enemies,  after  he  had  paused  awhile  to  recollect  his 
thoughts  and  quiet  his  first  emotion  of  concern  with  reason, 
he  adorned  his  head  again,  finished  the  sacrifice,  and  spoke 
thus  to  the  messengers :  I  did  not  make  it  my  request  to 
the  Gods,  that  my  son  might  be  immortal  or  long-lived,  for 
it  is  not  manifest  whether  this  was  convenient  for  him  or 
not,  but  that  he  might  have  integrity  in  his  principles  and 
be  a  lover  of  his  country  ;  and  now  I  have  my  desire.  Dion 
of  Syracuse,  as  he  was  consulting  with  his  friends  concern¬ 
ing  some  affairs,  heard  a  great  noise ;  and  crying  out  and 
•  asking  what  was  the  matter,  he  was  told  the  accident,  that 
his  son  was  killed  with  a  fall  from  the  top  of  the  house. 
He  was  not  at  all  surprised  or  astonished  at  the  disaster, 
but  commanded  the  dead  body  to  be  delivered  to  the  women, 
that  they  might  bury  it  according  to  custom.  But  he  went 
on  with  his  first  deliberations,  and  re-assumed  his  discourse 


80 


CONSOLATION  TO  APOLLONIUS. 


in  that  part  where  this  accident  had  broken  it  off.  It  is 
said  that  Demosthenes  the  orator  imitated  him  upon  the 
loss  of  his  only  and  dearest  daughter ;  about  which  Aes¬ 
chines,  thinking  to  upbraid  him,  spoke  after  this  manner : 
Within  seven  days  after  the  death  of  his  daughter,  before 
he  had  performed  the  decencies  of  sorrow,  and  paid  those 
common  rites  to  the  memory  of  the  deceased,  he  put  on  a 
garland,  clothed  himself  in  white,  and  sacrificed,  thereby 
outraging  decency,  though  he  had  lost  his  only  daughter, 
the  one  which  had  first  called  him  father.*  Thus  did 
Aeschines  with  the  strokes  of  his  oratory  accuse  Deinc\s- 
thenes,  not  knowing  that  he  rather  deserved  a  panegyric 
upon  this  occasion,  when  he  rejected  his  sorrow  and  pre¬ 
ferred  the  love  of  his  country  to  the  tenderness  and  com¬ 
passion  he  ought  to  have  for  his  relations.  King  xlntigonus, 
when  he  heard  the  death  of  his  son  Alcyoneus  who  was 
slain  in  battle,  looking  steadily  upon  the  messengers  of 
these  sad  tidings,  after  a  little  interval  of  silence  and  with 
a  modest  countenance,  spoke  thus :  O  Alcyoneus,  thou 
hast  fallen  later  than  I  thought  thou  wouldst,  so  brisk  wast 
thou  to  run  upon  the  thickest  of  thy  enemies,  having  no 
regard  either  to  thy  own  safety  or  to  my  admonitions. 
Every  one  praiseth  these  men  for  the  bravery  of  their  spirit, 
but  none  can  imitate  what  they  have  done,  through  the 
weakness  of  their  minds  which  proceeds  ‘from  want  of 
good  instruction.  But  although  there  are  many  examples 
extant,  both  in  the  Greek  and  Koman  stories,  of  those  who 
have  borne  the  death  of  their  relations  not  only  with  de¬ 
cency  but  courage,  I  think  these  that  I  have  related  to  be 
a  sufficient  motive  to  thee  to  keep  tormenting  grief  at  a 
distance,  and  so  ease  thyself  of  that  labor  which  hath  no 
profit  in  it  and  is  all  in  vain. 

34.  For  that  virtuous  men  die  in  the  prime  of  their 
years  by  the  kindness  of  the  Gods,  to  whom  they  are  pecu- 

*  Aeschines  against  Ctesiphon,  §  77. 


CONSOLATION  TO  APOLLONIUS. 


81 


liarly  dear,  I  have  already  told  thee  in  the  former  part  of 
'my  discourse,  and  will  give  a  short  hint  of  it  now,  bearing 
witness  to  that  which  is  so  prettily  said  by  Menander :  —  . 

He  whom  the  Gods  do  love  dies  young. 

But  perhaps,  my  dear  Apollonius,  thou  wilt  thus  object 
to  me :  My  young  Apollonius  was  blessed  by  fortune  in 
his  life,  and  I  ought  first  to  have  died  that  he  might  bury 
me ;  for  this  is  according  to  nature.  According  to  our 
human  nature,  I  confess  ;  but  Providence  hath  other  meas¬ 
ures,  and  that  supreme  order  which  governs  the  world  is 
very  different ;  for  thy  son  being  now  made  happy,  it  was 
not  requisite  according  to  nature  that  he  should  tarry  in 
this  life  longer  than  the  time  prefixed  him,  but  that,  having' 
consummated  the  term  of  his  duration,  he  should  perform 
his  fatal  journey.  Nature  recalling  him  to  herself  But  he 
died  untimely,  you  may  say.  Upon  that  account  he  is  the 
happier,  not  having  been  sensible  of  those  evils  which  are 
incident  to  life.  For  Euripides  said  truly :  — 

The  time  of  being  here  we  style  amiss  ; 

We  call  it  life,  but  truly  labor  ’tis. 

Thy  Apollonius  died  in  the  beautiful  flower  of  his  years, 
a  youth  in  all  points  perfect,  who  gained  the  love,  and  pro¬ 
voked  the  emulation  of  all  his  contemporaries  He  was 
dutiful  to  his  father  and  mother,  obliging  to  his  domestics, 
was  a  scholar,  and  (to  comprehend  all  in  a  word)  he  was  a 
lover  of  mankind.  He  had  a  veneration  for  the  old  men 
that  were  his  friends,  as  if  they  had  been  his  parents,  had 
an  affection  for  his  companions  and  equals,  reverenced  his 
instructors,  was  hospitable  and  mild  to  his  guests  and 
strangers,  gracious  to  all,  and  beloved  by  all,  as  well 
for  his  attractive  countenance  as  for  his  lovely  affability. 
Therefore,  being  accompanied  with  the  applauses  of  thy 
piety  and  his  own,  he  hath  only  made  a  digression  from 
this  mortal  life  to  eternity,  as  if  he  had  withdrawn  from  the 
entertainment  before  he  grew  absurd,  and  before  the  stag- 


82 


CONSOLATION  TO  APOLLONIUS. 


gerings  of  drunkenness  came  upon  him,  which  are  incident 
to  a  long  old  age.  Now  if  the  sayings  of  the  old  philoso¬ 
phers  and  poets  are  true,  as  there  is  probability  to  think, 
that  honors  and  high  seats  of  dignity  are  conferred  upon 
the  righteous  after  they  are  departed  this  life,  and  if,  as  it 
is  said,  a  particular  region  is  appointed  for  their  souls  to 
dwell  in,  you  ought  to  cherish  very  fair  hopes  that  your 
son  stands  numbered  amongst  those  blest  inhabitants. 

35.  Of  the  state  of  the  pious  after  death,  Pindar  dis- 
courseth  after  this  manner :  — 

There  the  sun  shines  with  an  unsullied  light, 

When  all  the  world  below  is  thick  with  night. 

There  all  the  richly  scented  plants  do  grow, 

And  there  the  crimson-colored  roses  blow ; 

Each  flower  blooming  on  its  tender  stalk, 

•  And  all  these  meadows  are  their  evening  walk. 

There  trees  peculiarly  delight  the  sense, 

With  their  exhaled  perfumes  of  frankincense. 

The  boughs  tlieir  noble  burdens  cannot  hold. 

The  weight  must  sink  them  when  the  fruit  is  gold. 

Some  do  the  horse  unto  the  manege  bring, 

'  Others  unto  the  tuneful  lute  do  sing ; 

There’s  plenty  to  excess  of  every  thing. 

The  region  always  doth  serene  appear. 

The  sun  and  pious  flames  do  make  it  clear. 

Where  fragrant  gums  do  from  the  altars  rise. 

When  to  the  Gods  they  offer  sacrifice. 

And  proceeding  farther,  in  another  lamentation  he  spake 
thus  concerning  the  soul :  — 

Just  we  that  distribution  may  call, 

Which  to  each  man  impartially  doth  fall. 

It  doth  decide  the  dull  contentious  strife, 

And  easeth  the  calamities  of  life. 

Death  doth  its  efforts  on  the  body  spend  ; 

But  the  aspiring  soul  doth  upwards  tend. 

Nothing  can  damp  that  bright  and  subtile  fiame, 

Immortal  as  the  Gods  from  whence  it  came. 

But  this  sometimes  a  drowsy  nap  will  take,  '  ' 

When  all  the  other  members  are  awake. 

Fancy  in  various  dreams  doth  to  it  show. 

What  punishments  unto  each  crime  is  due ; 

What  pleasures  are  reserved  for  pious  deeds. 

And  with  what  scourges  the  incestuous  bleeds. 


CONSOLATION  TO  APOLLONIUS. 


83 


36.  Divine  Plato  hath  spoken  many  things  of  the  immor¬ 
tality  of  the  soul  in  that  book  which  he  calls  his  Phaedo ; 
not  a  few  in  his  Republic,  his  Menon,  and  his  Gorgias ; 
and  hath  some  scattered  expressions  in  the  rest  of  his  dia¬ 
logues.  The  things  which  are  written  by  him  in  his  Dia¬ 
logue  concerning  the  Soul  I  will  send  you  by  themselves, 
illustrated  with  my  commentaries  upon  them,  according  to 
your  request.  I  will  now  only  quote  those  which  are  op¬ 
portune  and  to  the  present  purpose,  and  they  are  the  words 
of  Socrates  to  Callicles  the  iVthenian,  who  was  the  compan¬ 
ion  and  scholar  of  Gorgias  the  rhetorician.  For  so  saith 
Socrates  in  Plato  :  — 

“  Hear  then,”  saith  he,  “  a  most  elegant  story,  which  you, 
1  fancy,  will  think  to  be  a  fable,  but  I  take  it  to  be  a  truth, 
for  the  things  which  I  shall  tell  you  have  nothing  but  real¬ 
ity  in  them.  Jupiter,  Neptune,  and  Pluto,  as  Homer  tells 
us,  divided  amongst  themselves  the  kingdom  which  they 
received  by  inheritance  from  their  father ;  but  there  was  a 
law  established  concerning  men  in  the  reign  of  Saturn, 
which  was  then  valid  and  still  remains  in  force  amongst 
the  Gods,  that  that  mortal  which  had  led  a  just  and  pious 
life  should  go,  when  he  died,  into  the  fortunate  islands  of 
the  blest,  and  there  dwell  in  happiness,  free  from  all  mis¬ 
ery  ;  but  he  that  had  lived  impiously  and  in  contempt  of 
the  Gods  should  be  shackled  with  vengeance,  and  be  thrust 
into  that  prison  which  they  call  Tartarus.  In  the  time  of 
Saturn,  and  in  the  first  beginning  of  Jove’s  empire,  the 
living  judged  the  living,  and  that  the  same  day  that  they 
were  to  die ;  whereupon  the  decisions  of  the  bench  were 
not  rightly  managed.  Therefore  Pluto  and  his  curators 
under  him  came  out  of  these  fortunate  islands,  and  com¬ 
plained  to  Jupiter  that  men  were  sent  to  both  places  who 
were  not  worthy.  I,  saith  Jupiter,  will  take  care  that  this 
thing  be  not  practised  for  the  future  ;  for  the  reason  that 
the  sentences  are  now  unjustly  passed  is  that  the  guilty  come 


84 


CONSOLATION  TO  APOLLONIUS. 


clothed  to  the  tribunal,  and  whilst  they  are  yet  alive.  For 
some  of  profligate  dispositions  are  yet  palliated  with  a 
beautiful  outside,  with  riches,  and  titles  of  nobility  ;  and  so 
when  they  come  to  be  arraigned,  many  will  offer  themselves 
as  witnesses  to  swear  that  they  have  lived  very  pious  lives. 
The  judges  are  dazzled  with  these  appearances,  and  they 
sit  upon  them  too  in  their  robes ;  so  that  their  minds  are 
(as  it  w^ere)  covered  and  obscured  with  eyes  and  ears,  and 
indeed  with  the  encumbrance  of  the  whole  body.  The 
judges  and  the  prisoners  being  clothed  is  thus  a  very  great 
impediment.  Therefore  in  the  first  place  the  foreknowl¬ 
edge  of  death  is  to  be  taken  away ;  for  now  they  see  the 
end  of  their  line,  and  Prometheus  has  been  commanded  to 
see  that  this  be  no  longer  allowed.  Next  they  ought  to  be 
divested  of  all  dress  and  ornament,  and  come  dead  to  the 
tribunal.  The  judge  himself  is  to  be  naked  and  dead  too, 
that  with  his  own  soul  he  may  view  the  naked  soul  of  each 
one  so  soon  as  he  is  dead,  when  he  is  now  forsaken  of  his 
relations,  and  has  left  behind  him  all  his  gayeties  in  the 
other  world  ;  and  so  justice  will  be  impartially  pronounced. 
Deliberating  on  this  with  myself  before  I  received  your 
advice,  I  have  constituted  my  sons  judges,  Minos  and 
Fhadamanthus  from  Asia,  and  Aeacus  from  Europe  ;  these 
therefore,  after  they  have  departed  this  life,  shall  assume 
their  character,  and  exercise  it  in  the  field,  and  in  the  road 
where  two  ways  divide  themselves,  the  one  leading  to  the 
fortunate  islands,  and  the  other  to  the  deep  abyss ;  so 
Ehadamanthus  shall  judge  the  Asians,  and  Aeacus  the 
Europeans.  But  to  Minos  I  will  grant  the  authority  of  a 
final  appeal,  that  if  any  thing  hath  escaped  the  notice  of 
the  others,  it  shall  be  subjected  to  his  cognizance,  as  to  the 
last  resort  of  a  supreme  judge ;  that  so  it  may  be  rightly 
decided  what  journey  every  one  ought  to  take.  These  are 
the  things,  Callicles,  which  I  have  heard  and  think  to  be 
true ;  and  I  draw  this  rational  inference  from  them,  that 


CONSOLATION  TO  APOLLONIUS.  85 

death  in  my  opinion  is  nothing  else  but  the  separation  of 
two  things  nearly  united,  which  are  soul  and  body  ”  * 

87.  These  collections,  my  dear  Apollonius,  I  have  joined 
together  with  all  the  accuracy  I  could,  and  out  of  them  com¬ 
posed  this  consolatory  letter  I  now  send  thee,  which  is  very 
necessary  to  dispel  thy  melancholy  humor  and  put  a  period 
to  thy  sighs.  I  have  paid  likewise  that  deference  which 
became  me  to  the  ashes  of  thy  son,  who  is  the  darling  of 
the  Gods,  such  an  honor  being  most  acceptable  to  those 
w^hom  fame  hath  consecrated  to  immortality.  Thou  wilt 
therefore  do  handsomely  to  believe  the  reasons  I  have 
urged  to  thee,  and  gratify  thy  deceased  son,  by  shaking  off 
this  unprofitable  sorrow,  which  eats  into  thy  mind  and  af¬ 
flicts  thy  body,  and  again  returning  to  that  course  of  humor 
which  nature  hath  chalked  out  and  the  former  customs  of 
thy  life  have  made  familiar  to  thee.  For  as,  when  thy  son 
lived  amongst  us,  he  could  not  without  the  deepest  regret 
see  thee  or  his  mother  sad,  so  now  that  he  is  amongst  the 
Gods  enjoying  the  intimacy  of  their  conversation,  such  a 
prospect  from  thence  must  be  much  more  displeasing. 
Therefore  take  up  the  resolutions  of  a  good  and  generous 
man  and  of  one  who  loved  his  son,  and  so  extricate  thyself, 
the  mother  of  the  lad,  thy  kinsmen  and  friends  at  once  from 
this  great  infelicity.  Betake  thyself  to  a  more  tranquil  sort 
of  life ;  which,  as  it  will  be  acceptable  to  thy  son,  will  also- 
be  extremely  pleasing  to  all  of  us  who  have  that  concern 
for  thee  that  we  ought  to  have. 


/ 


♦  Plat  Gorg.  623  A  — 524  B. 


OF  LARGE  ACQUAINTANCE ;  OR,  AN  ESSAY  TO  PROVE 
THE  FOLLY  OF  SEEKING  MANY  FRIENDS. 


1.  Menon  the  Thessalian,  a  person  who  had  no  mean 
opinion  of  his  own  parts,  who  thought  himself  well  accom¬ 
plished  in  all  the  arts  of  discourse  and  to  have  reached  (as 
Empedocles  words  it)  the  highest  pitch  of  wisdom,  was 
asked  by  Socrates,  What  is  virtue!  And  he  answered 
readily  enough,  and  as  impertinently,  that  there  is  one 
virtue  belonging  to  childhood,  another  to  old  age  ;  that 
there  are  distinct  virtues  in  men  and  women,  magistrates 
and  private  persons,  masters  and  servants.  Excellently 
well !  replied  Socrates  in  raillery,  when  you  were  asked 
about  one  virtue,  you  have  raised,  as  it  were,  a  whole 
swarm ;  conjecturing,  not  without  reason,  that  the  man 
therefore  named  many  because  he  knew  the  nature  of 
none.  And  may  not  we  ourselves  expect  and  deserve  as 
justly  to  be  scoffed  and  rallied,  who  having  not  yet  con¬ 
tracted  one  .firm  friendship  seem  nevertheless  exceeding 
cautious  of  too  many !  It  is  almost  the  same  thing  as  if 
one  maimed  and  blind  should  appear  solicitous  lest  like 
Briareus  he  may  chance  to  be  furnished  with  a  hundred 
hands,  and  become  all  over  eyes  like  Argus.  However, 
we  cannot  but  extol  the  sense  of  that  young  man  in  Me¬ 
nander  the  poet,  who  said  that  he  counted  every  man 
wonderfully  honest  and  happy  who  had  found  even  the 
shadow  of  a  friend. 


OF  THE  FOLLY  OF  SEEKING  MANY  FRIENDS. 


87 


2.  But  all  the  difficulty  lies  in  finding  him ;  and  the 
chiefest  reason  is  that,  instead  of  one  choice  true  friend, 
nothing  under  a  multitude  will  content  us  ;  like  women  of 
the  town  who  admit  the  embraces  of  all  gallants  that 
come,  at  the  gay  appearance  of  the  last  which  comes  we 
neglect  and  slight  the  former,  and  so  are  unable  to  hold 
them.  Or  rather,  like  the  foster-child  of  Hypsipyle,  who 
“  in  a  green  meadow  sat  cropping  the  flowers  one  after 
another,  snatching  each  prize  with  delighted  heart,  in¬ 
satiable  in  his  childish  joy,”  *  —  so  we  of  riper  years,  from 
'  an  inbred  affection  of  novelty  and  disdain  of  things  already 
possessed,  take  up  presently  with  the  first  promising  aspect 
of  every  fresh  and  new-blooming  friend,  and  lay  all  at 
once  the  foundations  of  several  acquaintances  ;  but  we 
leave  each  unfinished,  and  when  we  have  scarce  fixed  on 
one,  our  love  immediately  palls  there,  while  we  passion¬ 
ately  pursue  some  other. 

Wherefore,  in  this  affair,  —  to  begin  at  the  beginning 
(at  the  domestic  altar,  as  the  saying  is),  —  let  us  ask  the 
opinion  and  counsel  of  our  forefathers,  and  consider  what 
report  the  records  of  antiquity  make  concerning  true 
friends.  They  are,  we  find,  always  reckoned  in  pairs;  as 
Theseus  and  Pirithous,  Achilles  and  Patroclus,  Orestes 
and  Pylades,  Phintias  and  Damon,  Epaminondas  and 
Pelopidas.  Friendship  (so  to  speak)  is  a  creature  sociable, 
but  affects  not  a  herd  or  a  flock ;  and  that  we  usudlly 
esteem  a  friend  another  self,  and  call  him  kaiQog  (companion) 
as  much  as  to  say  n^Qog  (the  other  one),  is  a  convincing 
argument  that  the  number  two  is  the  adequate  and  com¬ 
plete  measure  of  friendship.  And  in  truth,  a  great 

*  E/f  TOP  7iei/jtC)va  Kadcaac 
edpETzev  erepov  £<(>*  eripcp 
aipofievo^  uypevpa  uvdiuv 
fjdo/iivg.  ipvx^, 

TO  vrjTTLOv  uirT^rjaTOV  txcov. 

From  the  Hypsipyle  of  Euripides. 


88  OF  THE  FOLLY  OF  SEEKING  MANY  FRIENDS. 

number  of  friends  or  servants  is  not  to  be  purchased  at  an 
easy  rate.  That  which  procures  love  and  friendship  in  the 
world  is  a  sweet  and  obliging  temper  of  mind,  a  lively 
readiness  in  doing  good  offices,  together  with  a  constant 
habit  of  virtue  ;  than  which  qualifications  nothing  is  more 
rarely  found  in  nature.  Therefore  to  love  and  to  be  be¬ 
loved  much  can  have  no  place  in  a  multitude  ;  but  the 
most  eager  affection,  if  divided  among  numerous  objects, 
like  a  river  divided  into  several  channels,  must  needs  flow 
at  length  very  weak  and  languid.  Upon  this  score,  those 
animals  love  their  young  most  which  generate  but  one ; 
and  Homer,  describing  a  beloved  child,  calls  it  the  only- 
begotten  and  born  in  old  age,' —  that  is,  at  such  a  time 
when  the  parents  neither  have  nor  hope  for  another.* 

3.  Yet  I  do  not  assert  we  ought  to  confine  ourselves  to 
one  only  friend ;  but  among  the  rest,  there  should  be  one 
eminently  so,  like  a  well-beloved  and  only  son,  not  casually 
picked  up  at  a  tavern  or  eating-house  or  in  a  tennis-court, 
nor  at  a  game  of  hazard,  nor  at  an  accidental  meeting  in 
the  wrestling-place  or  the  market,  —  as  is  too  common  nowa¬ 
days,  —  but  one  chosen  upon  long  and  mature  deliberation, 
with  whom  (according  to  that  celebrated  proverb)  we  have 
eaten  a  bushel  of  salt. 

The  palaces  of  noble  men  and  princes  appear  guarded 
with  splendid  retinues  of  diligent  obsequious  servants,  and 
>  every  room  is  crowded  with  a  throng  of  visitors,  who 
caress  the  great  man  with  all  the  endearing  gestures  and 
expressions  that  wit  and  breeding  can  invent ;  and  it  may 
be  thought,  I  confess,  at  first  sight,  that  such  are  very  for¬ 
tunate  in  having  so  many  cordial,  real  friends  at  their  com¬ 
mand  ;  whereas  it  is  all  bare  pageantry  and  show.  Change 
the  scene,  and  you  may  observe  a  far  greater  number  of 
flies  as  industriously  busy  in  their  kitchens ;  and  as  these 
would  vanish,  were  the  dishes  empty  and  clean,  so  neither 

*  II.  IX.  482. 


OF  THE  FOLLY  OF  SEEKING  MANY  FRIENDS. 


89 


would  that  other  sort  of  insect  pay  any  farther  respect, 
were  nothing  to  be  got  by  it. 

There  are  chiefly  these  requisites  to  a  true  friendship : 
virtue,  as  a  thing  lovely  and  desirable  ;  familiarity,  as  pleas¬ 
ant  ;  and  advantage,  as  necessary.  For  we  must  first  choose 
a  friend  upon  a  right  judgment  made  of  his  excellent 
qualities ;  having  chosen  him,  we  must  perceive  a  pleasure 
in  his  conversation,  and  upon  occasion  he  must  be  useful 
to  us  in  our  concerns.  All  which  (especially  judgment  in 
our  choice,  the  main  point  of  all)  are  inconsistent  with  a 
numerous  acquaintance. 

And  first  of  all  (to  draw  a  parallel  in  other  matters),  if 
there  is  no  small  time  required  to  select  a  great  many  per¬ 
sons  together  who  can  dance  and  sing  in  exact  time  to  the 
same  tune,  manage  oars  with  a  like  strength  and  vigor,  be 
fit  stewards  of  our  estates  or  tutors  of  our  children,  cer¬ 
tainly  we  must  acknowledge  it  much  more  difficult  to  meet 
with  a  considerable  number  of  friends,  ready  to  enter  with 
us  the  trial  of  all  manner  of  fortune,  of  whom  every  one 
will 

Of  his  good  fortune  yield  thy  part  to  thee, 

And  bear  like  part  of  thy  calamity. 

Even  a  ship  at  sea  runs  not  the  risk  of  so  many  storms, 
nor  are  any  castles,  forts,  and  havens  secured  with  walls, 
ramparts,  and  dams  against  the  apprehension  of  so  many 
dangers,  as  are  the  misfortunes  against  which  a  constant 
approved  friendship  mutually  undertakes  to  afford  a  de¬ 
fence  and  refuge.  Whoever  without  due  trial  put  them¬ 
selves  upon  us  for  friends  we  examine  as  bad  money  ;  and 
the  cheat  being  discovered,  we  are  glad  if  of  their  own 
accord  they  withdraw ;  or  if  they  persist,  at  least  we  wish 
with  great  impatience  fairly  to  get  rid  of  them.*  Yet  we 
must  own  it  is  a  hard  and  troublesome  task  to  cast  off  a  dis¬ 
agreeable  acquaintance ;  for  as  unwholesome  meats  which 


*  Sophocles,  Frag.  778. 


90 


OF  THE  FOLLY  OF  SEEKING  MANY  FRIENDS. 


nauseate  the  stomach  can  neither  be  retained  without  haz¬ 
ard  of  health,  nor  yet  ejected  sincere  as  they  were  taken, 
but  wholly  disguised  and  defiled  with  other  humors ;  so  a 
mistaken  false  friend  must  either  be  still  entertained,  and 
remain  a  mere  vexation  to  us  as  well  as  uneasy  to  himself, 
or  else  by  a  kind  of  convulsion  be  thrown  up  like  bile, 
leaving  behind  the  continual  torment  of  private  grudgings 
and  hatred. 

4.  Therefore  it  highly  concerns  us  not  to  be  too  rash  in 
fastening  on  the  next  that  may  accidentally  offer,  nor  pres¬ 
ently  to  affect  every  one  that  pretends  to  be  fond  of  our 
friendship.  Let  the  search  rather  begin  on  our  own  part, 
and  our  choice  fix  on  those  who  approve  themselves  really 
worthy  of  our  respect.  What  is  cheap  and  with  ease  ob¬ 
tained  is  below  our  notice ;  and  w^e  trample  under  foot 
bushes  and  brambles  that  readily  catch  hold  of  us,  while 
we  diligently  clear  our  way  to  the  vine  and  olive ;  so  it  is 
always  best  not  to  admit  to  our  familiarity  persons  who 
officiously  stick  and  twist  themselves  about  us,  but  we 
ought  rather  of  our  own  accord  to  court  the  friendship  of 
those  who  are  worthy  of  our  regard,  and  who  prove  ad¬ 
vantageous  to  ourselves. 

5.  Therefore,  as  Zeuxis  replied  to  some  who  blamed  the 
slowness  of  his  pencil,  —  that  he  therefore  spent  a  long 
time  in  painting,  because  he  designed  his  work  should  last 
for  a  long  eternity,  —  so  he  that  would  secure  a  lasting 
friendship  and  acquaintance  must  first  deliberately  judge 
and  thoroughly  try  its  worth,  before  he  settles  it.  Suppose 
then  it  is  hard  to  make  a  right  judgment  in  choosing  many 
friends  together,  it  may  still  be  asked  whether  we  may  not 
maintain  a  familiarity  with  many  persons,  or  whether  that 
too  is  impossible.  Now  familiarity  and  converse  are  the 
genuine  products  and  enjoyments  of  true  friendship,  and 
the  highest  pleasure  the  best  friends  aim  at  is  continual 
intercourse  and  the  daily  frequenting  one  another’s  com¬ 
pany. 


OF  THE  FOLLY  OF  SEEKING  MANY  FRIENDS. 


91 


No  more  shall  meet  Achilles  and  his  friend  ; 

No  more  our  thoughts  to  those  we  loved  make  known. 

Or  quit  the  dearest,  to  converse  alone.* 

And,  as  Menelaus  says  of  Ulysses  :  — 

There  with  commutual  zeal  we  both  had  strove 
In  acts  of  dear  benevolence  and  love,  — 

Brothers  in  peace,  not  rivals  in  command,  — 

And  death  alone  dissolved  the  friendly  .band.t 

Now  much  acquaintance  has  a  clear  contrary  etfect ;  and 
whereas  single  friendship  by  kind  discourses  and  good 
offices  cements,  unites,  and  condenses  as  it  were  two  par- 
'  ties, — 

As  when  the  fig-tree’s  juice  curdles  and  binds  white  milk,  J 

as  Empedocles  says ;  this  on  the  other  hand  unties,  rends,  and 
breaks  the  bond,  distracts  our  inclinations  \vith  too  much 
variety ;  and  the  agreeable  just  mixture  of  affection,  the 
very  cement  of  true  friends,  is  wholly  lost  in  so  loose  and 
confused  a  conversation.  Hence  at  once  arises  great  ine¬ 
quality  with  respect  to  the  services  of  friendship,  and  a 
foolish  diffidence  in  the  performance  of  them.  For  multi¬ 
plicity  of  friends  renders  those  very  parts  of  friendship 
vain  and  useless  whence  advantage  was  most  expected ; 
neither  can  we  hope  it  should  be  otherwise,  if  we  consider 
how  “  one  man  is  acted  upon  by  his  nature  and  another  by 
his  cares  and  anxieties.”  Nature  hath  not  bestowed  the 
same  inclinations  on  all,  nor  are  we  all  born  to  the  same 
fortune ;  and  the  occasions  of  our  actions,  like  the  wind, 
may  often  favor  one  of  our  acquaintance  while  they  stand 
cross  to  another. 

6.  However,  suppose  by  great  chance  all  should  agree 
to  crave  assistance  in  the  same  affair,  whether  at  a  consult, 
exercise  of  a  public  "trust  in  the  government,  canvassing 
for  preferment,  entertaining  guests,  or  the  like ;  yet  it  is 
exceeding  hard  to  satisfy  all.  But  now  if  they  are  engaged 
in  diverse  concerns  at  the  very  same  moment  of  time,  and 

♦  11.  XXIII.  77.  t  See  Odyss.  IV.  178.  t  See  II.  V.  902. 


92 


OF  THE  FOLLY  OF  SEEKING  MANY  FRIENDS. 


every  one  should  make  his  particular  request  to  you,  one 
to  take  a  voyage  with  him,  another  to  assist  in  pleading  his 
cause,  a  third  to  prosecute  a  criminal,  a  fourth  to  help  in 
managing  his  trade,  another  to  celebrate  his  wedding,  and 
another  to  attend  a  funeral,  — 

And  the  whole  city’s  filled  with  incense  smoke, 

And  songs  of  triumph  mixt  with  groans  resound ;  * 

I  say,  in  this  case,  it  is  utterly  impossible  to  answer  the 
requests  of  all,  to  gratify  none  is  absurd,  and  to  serve  only 
one  and  disoblige  the  rest  is  a  thing  grievous  and  intoler¬ 
ably  rude  ;  —  “  for  no  one,  when  he  loves  a  friend,  will  bear 
to  be  neglected.”  f  If  indeed  you  could  persuade  that 
inadvertency  was  the  cause  of  the  omission,  you  might 
more  easily  hope  a  pardon ;  and  to  plead  forgetfulness  is  a 
sort  of  excuse  which  perhaps  might  pass  without  much 
angering  your  friend  ;  but  to  allege  “  I  could  not  be  advo¬ 
cate  in  your  cause,  being  of  counsel  for  another,”  or  “  I 
could  not  visit  you  in  a  fever,  because  I  was  invited  to  a 
feast  elsewhere,”  while  it  is  thus  confessed  that  we  neglect 
one  friend  to  pay  our  respects  to  another,  is  so  far  from 
extenuating  the  offence,  that  it  highly  aggravates  it,  and 
adds  all  the  jealousies  of  rivalry. 

But  commonly  men  overlook  these  and  such  like  incon¬ 
veniences  of  a  numerous  acquaintance,  and  take  only  a 
prospect  of  its  advantages,  not  in  the  least  reflecting  that 
whoever  employs  many  assistants  in  his  affairs  must  in 
gratitude  repay  his  service  to  as  many  when  they  need  it ; 
and  as  Briareus,  who  with  his  hundred  hands  was  daily 
obliged  for  his  bare  subsistence  to  feed  fifty  stomachs,  could 
thrive  no  better  than  ourselves,  who  supply  a  single  one 
with  two  hands,  so  a  man  of  many  friends  cannot  boast  any 
other  privilege  but  that  of  being  a  slave  to  many,  and  of 
sharing  in  all  the  business,  cares,  and  disquiet  that  may 
befall  them.  Nor  can.  Euripides  help  him  by  advising  that 

*  Sophocles,  Oed.  Tyr.  4.  t  From  Menander. 


OF  THE  FOLLY  OF  SEEKING  MANY  FKIENDS. 


93 


Best  suited  to  the  state 
Of  mortal  life  are  mutual  friendships  formed 
With  moderation,  such  as  take  not  root 
Deep  in  the  soul,  affections  that  with  ease 
May  be  relaxed,  or  closer  bound  at  will,* 

that  is,  we  may  pull  in  and  let  out  our  friendships  like  a  sail, 
as  the  wind  happens  to  blow.  Let  us  rather,  good  Eurip¬ 
ides,  turn  this  saying  of  yours  to  enmity  ;  for  heats  and  ani¬ 
mosities  ought  to  be  moderate,  and  never  reach  the  inmost 
recesses  of  the  soul ;  hatred,  anger,  complaints,  and  jealousies 
may  with  good  reason  be  readily  appeased  and  forgotten. 
Therefore  it  is  far  more  advisable,  as  Pythagoras  directs, 
“not  to  shake  hands  with  too  many,” — that  is,  not  to  make 
many  friends,  —  nor  to  affect  that  popular  kind  of  easiness 
which  courts  and  embraces  every  acquaintance  that  occurs, 
but  carries  with  it  on  the  reverse  a  thousand  mischiefs  ; 
among  which  (as  was  before  hinted)  to  bear  part  of  the 
same  cares,  to  be  affected  with  the  same  sorrows,  and  to  be 
embroiled  in  the  same  enterpj:ises  and  dangers  with  any 
great  number  of  friends  will  be  a  sort  of  life  hardly  toler¬ 
able  even  to  the  most  ingenuous  and  generous  tempers. 
What  Chilon  the  wise  man  remarked  to  one  who  said  he 
had  no  enemies,  namely,  “  Thou  seeniest  rather  to  have  Ho 
friends,”  has  a  great  deal  of  truth ;  for  enmities  always 
keep  pace  and  are  interwoven  with  friendships. 

7.  And  it  is  impossible  any  should  be  friends  that  resent 
not  mutually  the  affronts  and  injuries  offered  unto  either, 
and  that  do  not  hate  alike  and  in  common.  They  also  who 
are  enemies  to  yourself  will  presently  suspect  and  hate 
your  friend ;  nay,  your  other  friends  too  will  often  envy, 
calumniate,  and  undermine  him.  Wherefore  what  the 
oracle  foretold  Timesias  concerning  his  planting  a  colony, 
that  an  hive  of  bees  should  be  changed  into  a  nest  of  wasps, 
may  not  impertinently  be  applied  to  those  who  seek  after 
a  hive  of  friends,  but  light  before  they  know  it  upon  a 
wasps-nest  of  enemies. 

*  Eurip.  Hippol.  253. 


94 


OF  THE  FOLLY  OF  SEEKING  MANY  FRIENDS. 


Besides,  we  should  do  well  to  consider  that  the  kindest 
affections  of  friends  seldom  compensate  for  the  misfortunes 
that  befcill  us  from  the  malice  of  enemies.  It  is  well  known 
how  Alexander  treated  the  familiars  of  Philotas  and  Par- 
menio  ;  Dionysius,  those  of  Dion  ;  Nero,  those  of  Plautus  ; 
and  Tiherius,  those  of  Sejanus ;  all  shared  the  same  hard 
fate  of  being  racked  and  tortured  to  death.  For  as  the 
gold  and  riches  Creon’s  daughter  was  adorned  with  could 
not  secure  the  good  old  father  from  being  consumed  in  her 
flames,  endeavoring  too  officiously  to  rescue  her  ;  so  not  a 
few  partake  of  the  calamities  and  ruin  of  their  friends, 
before  they  have  reaped  the  least  advantage  from  their  pros¬ 
perity  ;  a  misfortune  to  which  philosophers  and  the  best- 
natured  men  are  the  most  liable.  This  was  the  case  of 
Theseus,  who  for  the  sake  of  his  dear  Pirithous  shared  his 
punishment,  and  was  bound  with  him  in  the  same  eternal 
chains.*  Thus  in  the  plague  of  Athens,  says  Thucydides, f 
the  most  generous  and  virtuous  citizens,  while  without 
regard  to  their  own  safety  they  visited  their  sick,  frequently 
perished  with  their  friends. 

8.  Such  accidents  as  these  ought  to  admonish  us  not  to 
be  too  prodigal  of  our  virtue,  nor  inconsiderately  to  prosti¬ 
tute  our  perfections  to  the  enjoyment  of  every  little  thing 
that  pretends  to  be  our  humble  admirer ;  rather  let  us  re¬ 
serve  them  for  the  worthy,  for  those  who  can  love  and  share 
another’s  joys  and  sorrows  like  ourselves.  And  truly,  this 
alone  renders  it  most  unlikely  that  many  men  should  remain 
friends,  that  real  friendship  has  always  its  origin  from  like¬ 
ness.  For,  we  may  observe,  even  brute  and  inanimate 
beings  affect  their  like,  very  readily  mixing  and  uniting 
with  those  of  their  own  nature  ;  while  with  great  reluctance 
and  a  kind  of  indignation  they  shrink  from  and  avoid  what- 
ever  differs  from  themselves,  and  force  can  scarce  oblige 
them  to  the  loathed  embraces.  By  what  motive  then  can 

*  Eurip.  Pirith.  Frag.  598.  t  Thucyd.  II.  61. 


OF  THE  FOLLY  OF  SEEKING  IVIANY  FRIENDS. 


95 


we  imagine  any  league  of  amity  can  be  kept  inviolable 
amidst  a  multitude,  where  manners  admit  of  so  much  vari¬ 
ety,  where  desires  and  humors  will  be  perpetually  jarring, 
where  the  several  courses  of  life  must  needs  be  almost  as 
unlike  as  constitutions  and  faces  ?  A  musical  concord  con¬ 
sists  of  contrary  sounds,  and  a  due  composition  of  flat  and 
'sharp  notes  makes  a  delightful  tune  ;  but  as  for  friendship, 
that  is  a  sort  of  harmony  all  of  a  piece,  and  admits  not  the 
least  inequality,  unlikeness,  or  discords  of  parts,  but  here 
all  discourses,  opinions,  inclinations,  and  designs  serve  one 
common  interest,  as  if  several  bodies  were  acted  and  in¬ 
formed  by  the  same  soul. 

9.  Now  is  there  any  person  living  of  that  industrious, 
pliant,  and  universal  humor,  who  can  take  the  pains  exactly 
to  imitate  all  shapes,  and  will  not  rather  deride  the  advice 
of  Theognis  *  as  absurd  and  impossible,  namely,  to  learn 
the  craft  of  the  polypus,  which  puts  on  the  hue  of  every 
stone  it  sticks  to  ?  However,  the  changes  of  this  fish  are 
only  superficial,  and  the  colors  are  produced  in  the  skin, 
which  by  its  closeness  or  its  laxity  receives  various  impres¬ 
sions  from  neighboring  objects ;  whereas  the  resemblance 
betwixt  friends  must  be  far  more  than  skin-deep,  must  be 
substantial,  such  as  may  be  traced  in  every  action  of  their 
lives,  in  all  their  affections,  dispositions,  words  and  pur¬ 
poses,  even  to  their  most  retired  thoughts.  To  follow  the 
advice  of  Theognis  would  be  a  task  worthy  of  a  Proteus, 
who  was  neither  very  fortunate  nor  very  honest,  but  could 
by  enchantment  transform  himself  in  an  instant  from  one 
shape  to  another.  Even  so,  he  that  entertains  many  friends 
must  be  learned  and  bookish  among  the  learned,  go  into 
the  arena  with  wrestlers,  drudge  cheerfully  after  a  pack  of 
hounds  with  gentlemen  that  love  hunting,  drink  with  de¬ 
bauchees,  and  sue  for  office  with  politicians ;  in  fine,  he 
must  have  no  proper  principles  of  actions  and  humors  of 

*  Theognis,  vs.  215. 


96 


OF  THE  FOLLY  OF  SEEKING  MANY  FRIENDS. 


his  own,  but  those  of  the  present  company  he  converses 
with.  Thus,  as  the  first  matter  of  the  philosophers  is 
originally  without  shape  or  color,  yet  being  the  subject  of 
all  natural  changes  takes  by  its  own  inherent  forces  the 
forms  of  fire,  water,  air,  and  solid  earth ;  so  a  person  that 
affects  a  numerous  friendship  must  possess  a  mind  full  of 
folds  and  windings,  subject  to  many  passions,  inconstant  as 
water,  and  easy  to  be  transformed  into,  an  infinite  variety 
of  shapes.  But  real  friendship  requires  a  sedate,  stable, 
and  unalterable  temper  ;  so  that  it  is  a  rare  thing  and  next 
a  miracle  to  find  a  constant  and  sure  friend. 


OF  ENVY  AND  HATRED. 


1.  Envy  and  hatred  are  passions  so  like  each  other  that 
they  are  often  taken  for  the  same.  And  generally,  vice  has 
(as  it  were)  many  hooks,  whereby  it  gives  unto  those  pas¬ 
sions  that  hang  thereto  many  opportunities  to  be  twisted 
and  entangled  with  one  another ;  for  as  differing  diseases 
of  the  body  agree  in  many  like  causes  and  effects,  so  do  the 
disturbances  of  the  mind.  He  who  is  in  prosperity  is 
equally  an  occasion  of  grief  to  the  envious  and  to  the  mali¬ 
cious  man ;  therefore  we  look  upon  benevolence,  which  is 
a  willing  our  neighbor’s  good,  as  an  opposite  to  both  envy 
and  hatred,  and  fancy  these  two  to  be  the  same  because 
they  have  a  contrary  purpose  to  that  of  love.  But  their 
resemblances  make  them  not  so  much  one  as  their  unlike¬ 
ness  makes  them  distinct.  Therefore  we  endeavor  to  describe 
each  of  them  apart,  beginning  at  the  original  of  either 
passion. 

2.  Hatred  proceeds  from  an  opinion  that  the  person  we 
hate  is  evil,  if  not  generally  so,  at  least  in  particular  to  us. 
For  they  who  think  themselves  injured  are  apt  to  hate  the 
author  of  their  wrong ;  yea,  even  those  who  are  reputed 
injurious  or  malicious  to  others  than  ourselves  we  usually 
nauseate  and  abhor.  But  envy  has  only  one  sort  of  object, 
the  felicity  of  others.  Whence  it  becomes  infinite,  and, 
like  an  evil  or  diseased  eye,  is  offended  with  every  thing 
that  is  bright.  On  the  other  hand,  hatred  is  always  deter¬ 
mined  by  the  subject  it  adheres  to. 


98 


OF  ENVY  AND  HATRED. 


3.  Secondly,  hatred  maybe  conceived  even  against  brutes; 
for  there  are  some  men  who  have  an  antipathy  to  cats  or 
beetles  or  toads  or  serpents.  Germanicus  could  endure 
neither  the  crowing  nor  the  sight  of  a  cock  ;  and  the  Per¬ 
sian  Magi  were  killers  of  mice,  as  creatures  which  they 
both  hated  themselves  and  accounted  odious  to  God.  In 
like  manner  also  all  the  Arabians  and  Ethiopians  abhor 
them.  But  envy  is  purely  a  human  passion,  and  directed 
only  against  man. 

4.  Envy  is  not  likely  to  be  found  among  brutes,  whose 
fancies  are  not  moved  by  the  apprehensions  of  each  other  s 
good  or  evil ;  neither  can  they  be  spirited  with  the  notions 
of  glorious  or  dishonorable,  by  which  envy  is  chiefly  stirred 
up.  Yet  they  have  mutual  hatred ;  they  kill  each  other, 
and  wage  most  incredible  wars.  The  eagles  and  the 
dragons  fight,  the  crows  and  the  owls,  yea,  the  little  tit¬ 
mouse  and  linnet ;  insomuch  that  it  is  said,  the  very  blood 
of  these  creatures,  when  slain,  will  by  no  means  be  mixed ; 
but  though  you  would  temper  them  together,  they  will 
immediately  separate  again.  The  lion  also  vehemently 
hates  the  cock,  and  the  elephant  the  hog ;  but  this  proba¬ 
bly  proceeds  from  fear ;  for  what  they  fear,  the  same  are 
they  inclined  to  hate. 

We  see  then  herein  a  great  difference  betwixt  envy  and 
hate,  that  the  one  is  natural  to  brutes,  but  they  are  not  at 
all  capable  of  the  other. 

5.  Further,  envy  is  always  unjust;  for  none  wrong  by 
being  happy,  and  upon  this  sole  account  they  are  envied. 
But  hatred  is  often  just ;  for  there  are  some  men  so  much 
to  be  avoided  and  disliked,  that  we  should  judge  those 
worthy  to  be  hated  themselves  who  do  not  shun  and  detest 
them.  And  of  this  it  is  no  weak  evidence,  that  many  will 
acknowledge  they  hate,  but  none  will  confess  they  envy ; 
and  hatred  of  the  evil  is  registered  amongst  laudable 
thinsrs. 


OF  ENVY  AND  HATRED. 


99 


Therefore,  as  some  were  commending  Charillus,  the 
nephew  of  Lycurgus  and  king  of  Sparta,  for  his  univer¬ 
sally  mild  and  gentle  disposition,  —  How,  answered  his 
colleague,  can  Charillus  be  a  virtuous  person,  who  is  pleas¬ 
ing  even  to  the  vicious  ?  So  the  poet  too,  when  he  had 
variously  and  with  an  infinite  curiosity  described  the  defor¬ 
mities  of  Thersites’s  body,  easily  couched  all  the  baseness 
of  his  manners  in  a  word, — 

Most  hateful  to  Achilles  and  Ulysses  too ; 

for  to  be  an  enemy  to  the  good  is  the  greatest  extravagance 
of  vice. 

Men  will  deny  the  envy ;  and  when  it  is  alleged,  will 
feign  a  thousand  excuses,  pretending  they  were  angry,  or 
that  they  feared  or  hated  the  person,  cloaking  envy  with 
the  name  of  any  passion  they  can  think  of,  and  concealing 
it  as  the  most  loathsome  sickness  of  the  soul. 

6.  Moreover,  these  disturbances  of  the  mind,  like  plants, 
must  be  nourished  and  augmented  by  the  same  roots  from 
,  which  they  spring ;  therefore  hatred  increases  as  the  per¬ 
sons  hated  grow  worse,  while  envy  swells  bigger  as  the 
envied  rise  higher  in  the  true  braveries  of  virtue.  Upon 
this  consideration  Themistocles,  Avhilst  he  was  yet  young, 
said  that  he  had  done  nothing  gallant,  for  he  was  not  yet 
envied.  And  we  know  that,  as  the  cantharis  is  most  busy 
with  ripe  fruits  and  roses  in  their  beauty,  so  envy  is  most 
employed  about  the  eminently  good  and  those  who  are 
glorious  in  their  places  and  esteem.  • 

Again,  extreme  badness  makes  hatred  more  vehement 
and  bitter.  The  Athenians  therefore  had  so  utter  an  ab¬ 
horrence  of  those  who  accused  Socrates,  that  they  would 
neither  lend  them  fire,  nor  answer  them  any  question,  nor 
wash  with  them  in  the  same  water,  but  commanded  the 
servants  to  pour  it  out  as  polluted ;  till  these  sycophants, 


100 


OF  ENVY  AND  HATRED. 


no  longer  able  to  bear  up  under  the  pressure  of  this  hatred, 
put  an  end  to  their  own  lives. 

Yet  envy  often  gives  place  to  the  splendor  of  a  matchless 
prosperity.  For  it  is  not  likely  that  any  envied  x\lexander 
or  Cyrus,  when  they  arrived  at  the  height  of  their  conquests 
and  became  lords  of  all.  But  as  the  sun,  where  he  passes 
highest  and  sends  down  his  beams  most  directly,  has  none 
or  very  little  shadow,  so  they  who  are  exalted  to  the  meri¬ 
dian  of  fortune,  shining  aloof  over  the  head  of  envy,  have 
scarce  any  thing  of  their  brightness  eclipsed,  while  envy 
retires,  being  driven  away  by  the  brightness  overspread¬ 
ing  it. 

On  the  contrary,  hatred  is  not  vanquished  by  the  great- 
.  ness  and  glory  of  its  objects.  For  though  Alexander  had 
not  one  to  envy  him,  yet  he  had  many  haters,  by  whose  - 
treacheries  at  last  he  fell.  So,  on  the  other  side,  misfor¬ 
tunes  cause  envy  to  cease,  but  take  not  enmity  away ;  for 
men  will  be  malicious  even  toward  abject  enemies,  but  none 
envy  the  distressed.  However,  what  was  said  by  one  of 
our  Sophists,  that  the  envious  are  tenderly  inclinable  to 
pity,  is  true ;  and  in  this  appears  a  great  unlikeness  of 
these  passions,  that  hatred  leaves  neither  the  happy  nor 
the  miserable,  but  envy  becomes  languid  when  its  object 
has  either  prosperity  or  adversity  in  excess. 

7.  We  shall  better  understand  this  from  the  poising 
them  together. 

Men  let  go  their  enmity  and  hatred,  when  either  they 
are  persuaded  they  were  not  injured  at  all,  or  if  they  now 
believe  them  to  be  good  whom  before  they  hated  as  evil, 
or,  lastly,  when  they  are  appeased  by  the  insinuations  of  a 
benefit  received.  For  as  Thucydides  saith,  A  later  service 
or  good  turn,  if  it  be  done  at  the  right  moment,  will  take 
away  the  ill  resenting  of  a  former  fault,  though  this  was 
greater  than  the  recompense.* 


*  Thucyd.  I.  42. 


OF  ENVY  AND  HATRED. 


.  101 


Yet  the  first  of  these  removes  not  envy,  for  men  will 
persist  in  this  vice,  though  they  know  they  are  not  wronged  ; 
and  the  two  latter  (the  esteem  or  credit  of  a  person,  and 
the  bestowing  a  favor)  do  exasperate  it  more.  For  they 
most  envy  the  virtuous,  as  those  who  are  in  possession  of 
the  chiefest  good ;  and  when  they  receive  a  kindness  from 
any  in  prosperity,  it  is  with  reluctance,  as  though  they 
grudged  them  not  only  the  power  but  the  will  of  conferring 
it ;  the  one  of  which  comes  from  their  happy  fortune,  the 
other  from  their  virtue.  Both  are  good.  Therefore  envy 
is  an  entirely  distinct  affection  from  hatred,  since,  as  we  see, 
the  very  things  that  appease  the  one  only  rouse  and  exas¬ 
perate  the  other. 

8.  Now  let  us  consider  a  little  the  inclination  and  bent 
of  either  passion. 

The  design  of  hatred  is  to  endamage ;  and  hence  they 
define  it,  an  insidious  desire  and  purpose  of  doing  hurt. 
But  envy  aims  not  at  this.  Many  envy  their  familiars  and 
kinsfolk,  but  have  no  thoughts  of  their  ruin  nor  of  so  much 
as  bringing  any  troubles  upon  them ;  only  their  felicity  is 
a  burden.  Though  they  will  perhaps  diminish  their  glory 
and  splendor  what  they  can,  yet  they  endeavor  not  their 
utter  ^subversion ;  being,  as  it  were,  content  to  pull  down 
so  much  only  of  an  high  stately  house  as  hindered  the 
light  and  obscured  them  with  too  great  a  shade. 


■HOW  A  MAN  MAY  INOFFENSIVELY  PRAISE  HIMSELF 
WITHOUT  BEING  LIABLE  TO  ENVY. 


1.  He  that  talks  big  and  arrogantly  of  himself,  Hercu- 
lanus,  is  universally  condemned  as  a  troublesome  and  ill- 
bred  companion.  But  the  most,  even  of  those  who  in 
words  mightily  declaim  against  him,  seem  to  applaud  him 
in  their  actions.  Euripides  could  say, 

'  If  speech  grew  scarce,  and  at  great  ratdt  were  sold. 

Commend  himself  what  lavish  fellow  would  ? 

But  since  the  infinite  treasure  of  the  air 
Praise  gratis  yields,  none  truth  or  falsehood  spare ; 

Suffering  no  damage,  though  they  give  their  ware. 

Yet  he  often  brings  in  his  heroes  intolerably  boasting,  and 
stuffs  their  most  tragical  adventures  and  passions  with  im¬ 
proper  discourses  of  themselves.  So  Pindar  declares, 

Unseasonably  to  glory 
Makes  harmony  with  fury ;  * 

but  he  forbears  not  to  extol  his  own  raptures,  which  indeed, 
by  the  confession  of  all  men,  are  worthy  of  the  noblest 
praise. 

But  those  who  are  crowned  for  mastery  in  the  games  or 
in  the  learned  combats  have  others  to  celebrate  their  vic¬ 
tories,  that  the  people’s  ears  be  not  grated  with  the  harsh 
noises  of  self-applause.  And  Timotheus  is  justly  censured 
as  unskilfully  and  irregularly  setting  forth  his  conquest  of 


*  Pindar,  Olymp.  IX.  58. 


HOW' A  MAN  MAY  PRAISE  HIMSELF. 


108 


Phrynis,  when  he  thus  proudly  boasted  it  in  writing  :  Hap¬ 
py  man  wast  thou,  Timotheus,  when  the  crier  proclaimed, 
‘  The  Milesian  Timotheus  hath  vanquished  the  son  of  Carbo, 
^the  soft  Ionian  poet.’ 

It  is  true  then,  as  Xenophon  says.  The  most  pleasant 
sound  that  a  man  can  hear  is  his  own  praise  in  another’s 
mouth ;  but  the  most  odious  thing  unto  others  is  a  man 
commending  himself.  For  we  brand  them  as  impudent 
who  commend  themselves,  it  becoming  them  to  be  modest 
though  they  were  praised  by  others  ;  and  we  account  them 
unjust  in  arrogating  that  to  themselves  which  another  has 
the  sole  propriety  of  bestowing  on  them.  Besides,  if  we 
then  are  silent,  we  seem  either  angry  or  envious ;  but  if 
we  second  their  discourse,  we  are  presently  entangled  and 
forced  to  contribute  more  than  we  intended,  speaking  to 
men’s  faces  what  sounds  well  only  behind  their  backs ; 
and  so  we  undertake  rather  the  base  work  of  drudging 
flattery  than  any  real  offices  of  true  honor, 

2.  Yet,  however,  there  is  a  time  when  a  statesman  may 
be  the  subject  of  his  own  discourse,  and  give  a  free  rela¬ 
tion  of  things  he  has  worthily  done  or  said,  as  well  as 
other  truths ;  taking  care  that  it  be  not  merely  for  favor 
or  reputation,  but  upon  some  emergent  occasion,  and  espec¬ 
ially,  when  the  deeds  achieved  by  him  or  the  parts  that  be 
in  him  be  good  and  honest,  then  he  is  not  to  forbear  and 
say  merely  that  he  hath  done  so  or  else  much  like.  There 
is  indeed  a  praise  of  this  kind  which  bears  very  excellent  and 
lovely  fruit,  from  whose  seeds  arise  many  of  the  same 
species  very  much  meliorated  and  improved.  And  there¬ 
fore  it  is  that  the  wise  statesman  seeks  glory  not  as  the 
reward  or  solace  of  his  virtue,  nor  embraces  it  merely  as 
the  companion  of  his  achievements,  but  because  the  being 
accounted  an  honorable  person  and  gallant  man  affords  a 
thousand  opportunities  of  compassing  many  and  more  de¬ 
sirable  things.  For  it  is  easy  and  delightful  to  be  of  use 


>104 


HOW  A  MAN  MAY  PRAISE  HIMSELF 


to  those  who  are  apt  to  believe  and  love  us ;  whereas,  if  a 
man  lie  under  calumnies  and  suspicions,  he  cannot  exert 
his  virtue  to  the  benefit  of  others  without  committing  a  kind 
of  violence  upon  them. 

There  may  also  be  more  reasons  than  these,  which  we 
must  enquire  into,  that,  while  we  endeavor  to  avert  a  frivo¬ 
lous  and  nauseous  applauding  of  ourselves,  we  chance  not 
to  omit  that  sort  which  may  be  truly  useful. 

3.  The  praise  therefore  is  vain  which  a  man  heaps  on 
himself  to  provoke  others  also  to  praise  him,  and  is  chiefly 
contemptible,  as  proceeding  from  an  importunate  and  un¬ 
seasonable  affectation  of  esteem. 

For  as  they  who  are  ready  to  die  for  food  are  compelled 
against  nature  to  gnaw  off  their  own  flesh,  and  thus  put  a 
miserable  end  to  their  famine ;  so  they  who  mortally  hun¬ 
ger  after  praise,  unless  some  one  afford  them  a  little  scant¬ 
ling  alms  of  commendation,  do  violate  the  laws  of  decency, 
shamelessly  endeavoring  to  supply  those  wants  by  an  un¬ 
natural  extolling  of  themselves. 

But  when  they  do  not  on  the  bare  consideration  of  them¬ 
selves  hunt  applause,  but  strive  to  obscure  the  worth  of 
others,  by  fighting  against  their  praises  and  opposing  their 
own  works  and  practices  to  theirs,  they  add  to  their  vanity 
an  envious  and  abhorred  baseness.  He  who  thrusts  his 
foot  into  another’s  dance  is  stigmatized  with  a  proverb  as  a 
ridiculous  and  pragmatical  clown  ;  but  upon  envy  and  jeal¬ 
ousy  to  thrust  ourselves  between  the  praises  of  others,  or 
to  interrupt  the  same  with  our  own  self  praise,  is  a  thing 
that  we  ought  equally  to  beware  of.  Neither  should  we 
allow  others  to  praise  us  at  such  a  time,  but  frankly  yield 
the  honor  to  those  who  are  then  celebrated,  if  their  merit 
be  real ;  and  though  the  persons  be  vicious  or  unworthy, 
yet  must  we  not  take  from  them  by  setting  up  ourselves ; 
but  rather  on  the  other  hand  we  must  reprove  the  unskil¬ 
ful  applauders,  and  demonstrate  their  encomiums  to  be 


WITHOUT  BEING  ENVIED. 


105 


improperly  and  dangerously  conferred.  It  is  plain  that 
these  errors  must  be  avoided. 

4.  But  self-praise  is  not  liable  to  disgrace  or  blame  when 
it  is  delicately  handled  by  way  of  apology  to  remove  a  cal-  < 
umny  or  accusation.  Thus  Pericles :  But  ye  are  angry  at 
me,  a  man  inferior  to  none,  whether  it  be  in  the  understand 
ing  or  interpreting  of  necessary  things  ;  a  man  who  am  a 
lover  of  my  country,  and  above  the  meannesses  of  bribes. 
For,  in  speaking  with  this  gallantry  of  himself,  he  was  not 
only  free  from  arrogance,  vanity,  and  ambition,  but  he 
demonstrated  the  greatness  and  spirit  of  that  virtue  which 
could  not  be  dejected  itself,  and  even  humbled  and  tamed 
the  haughtiness  of  envy.  Such  men  as  these  will  hardly 
be  condemned ;  but  those  who  would  vote  against  them 
are  won  over  to  their  cause,  do  receive  infinite  satisfaction, 
and  are  agreeably  inspirited  with  this  noble  boasting,  es¬ 
pecially  if  that  bravery  be  steady,  and  the  ground  firm  on 
which  it  stands.  This  history  does  frequently  discover. 
For,  when  the  Theban  generals  accused  Pelopidas  and 
Epaminondas  that,  the  time  for  their  office  as  Boeotarchs 
being  expired,  they  did  not  forthwith  give  up  their  power, 
but  made  an  incursion  into  Laconia  and  repaired  and  re¬ 
peopled  Messene,  Pelopidas,  submitting  himself  and  making 
many  lowly  entreaties,  very  hardly  obtained  his  absolution  ; 
but  Epaminondas  loftily  glorying  in  those  actions,  and  at 
last  declaring  he  would  willingly  be  put  to  death  so  that 
they  would  set  up  his  accusation,  “  Epaminondas  hath  wasted 
Laconia,  hath  settled  Messene,  and  happily  united  Arcadia 
into  one  state,  against  our  will,”  they  admired  him,  and 
the  citizens,  wondering  at  the  cheerful  greatness  of  his 
courage,  dismissed  him  with  unspeakable  pleasantness  and 
satisfaction. 

Therefore,  when  Agamemnon  thus  reproached  Diomedes, 

O  son  of  Tydeus  !  —  he  whose  strength  could  tame 

The  bounding  steeds,  in  arms  a  miglity  name,  — 


106 


HOW  A  MAN  MAY  PRAISE  HIMSELF 


Canst  thou  remote  the  mingling  hosts  descry, 

With  han  Is  inactive  and  a  careless  eye  ? 

Sthenelus  is  not  to  be  much  condemned  for  saying, 

Ourselves  much  greater  than  our  ancestors 
We  boast;* 

I 

for  Sthenelus  had  not  been  calumniated  himself,  but  he 
only  patronized  his  abused  friend ;  and  so  the  cause  ex¬ 
cused  that  freedom  of  speech,  which  seemed  otherwise  to 
have  something  of  the  glorioso. 

But  Cicero’s  magnifying  his  diligence  and  prudence  in 
Catiline’s  trial  was  not  very  pleasing  to  the  Romans ;  yet 
when  Scipio  said,  they  ought  not  to  judge  Scipio,  who  had 
enstated  them  in  the  power  of  judging  all  men,  they  as 
cended  crowned  to  the  Capitol,  and  sacrificed  with  him. 
For  Cicero  was  not  necessitated  to  this,  but  merely  spurred 
by  the  desire  of  glory ;  while  the  danger  wherein  Scipio 
stood  delivered  him  from  envy. 

5.  Now  talking  after  an  high  and  glorious  manner  proves 
advantageous,  not  only  to  persons  in  danger  of  the  law  or 
such  like  eminent  distress,  but  to  those  also  who  are  clouded 
in  a  dull  series  of  misfortunes ;  and  that  more  properly 
than  when  they  appear  splendid  in  the  world.  For  what 
addition  can  words  make  to  those  who  already  seem  pos¬ 
sessed  of  real  glory,  and  do  lie  indulging  and  basking  in 
her  beams  ]  But  those  who  at  present  are  incapable  of 
ambition,  if  they  express  themselves  loftily,  seem  only  to 
bear  up  against  the  storms  of  Fortune,  to  undergird  the 
greatness  of  their  souls,  and  to  shun  that  pity  and  commis" 
eration  which  supposes  a  shipwrecked  and  forlorn  condition. 
As  therefore  those  who  in  walking  affect  a  stiffness  of  body 
and  a  stretched-out  neck  are  accounted  effeminate  and  fop¬ 
pish,  but  are  commended  if  in  fencing  and  fighting  they 
keep  themselves  erect  and  steady ;  so  the  man  grappling 
with  ill  fortune,  if  he  raise  himself  to  resist  her, 


»  n.  IV.  370  and  405. 


WITHOUT  BEING  ENVIED. 


lor 


Like  some  stout  boxer,  ready  with  his  blow,* 

and  by,  a  bravery  of  speech  transform  himself  from  abject 
and  miserable  to  bold  and  noble,  is  not  to  be  censured  as 
obstinate  and  audacious,  but  honored  as  invincible  and  great. 
So,  although  Homer  described  Patroclus  in  the  happinesses 
of  his  life  as  smooth  and  without  envy,  yet  in  death  he 
makes  him  have  something  of  the  bravo,  and  a  soldier’s 
gallant  roughness : 

Had  twenty  mortals,  each  thy  match  in  might. 

Opposed  me  fairly,  they  had  sunk  in  figlit.t 

So  Phocion,  though  otherwise  very  mild,  after  the  sen¬ 
tence  passed  on  him,  showed  the  greatness  of  his  mind  in 
many  respects ;  particularly  to  one  of  his  fellow-sufferers, 
w'ho  miserably  cried  out  and  bewailed  his  misfortune.  What, 
says  he,  is  it  not  a  pleasure  to  thee  to  die  with  Phocion  ] 

6.  Further,  a  man  of  state  has  not  less  but  greater  lib¬ 
erty  to  speak  any  thing  of  himself  w^hen  his  merits  are 
rewarded  with  injurious  and  unkind  returns.  Achilles 
usually  gave  the  Gods  their  glory,  and  spoke  modestly  in 
this  manner: 

Whene’er,  by  Jove’s  decree,  our  conquering  powers 
Shall  humble  to  the  dust  Troy’s  lofty  -towers. 

But  when  he  was  unhandsomely  reproached  and  aspersed 
with  contumelies,  he  added  swelling  words  to  his  anger, 
and  these  in  his  own  applause : 

I  sacked  twelve  ample  cities  on  the  main  ; 

and  also  these :  , 

It  was  not  thus,  when,  at  my  sight  amazed, 

Troy  saw  and  trembled,  as  this  helmet  blazed.  J 

For  apologies  claim  a  great  liberty  of  speech  and  boasting, 
as  considerable  parts  of  their  defence. 

Themistocles  also,  having  been  guilty  of  nothing  dis- 

*  Soph.  Trachin.  442.  t  H.  XVI.  847. 

t  II.  I.  128;  IX.  328;  XVI.  70. 


108 


HOW  A  MAN  MAY  PRAISE  HIMSELI 


tasteful  either  in  his  words  or  actions,  yet  perceiving  the 
Athenians  glutted  with  him  and  beginning  to  neglect  him, 
forbore  not  to  say :  Why,  O  ye  happy  people,  do  ye  weary 
out  yourselves  by  still  receiving  benefits  from  the  same 
hands'?  Upon  every  storm  you  fly  to  the  same  tree  for 
shelter ;  yet,  when  it  is  fair  again,  you  despoil  it  of  its  leaves 
as  you  go  away. 

7.  They  therefore  who  are  injured  usually  recount  their 
good  actions  to  the.  ingrate.  And,  if  they  also  praise  those 
excellences  which  others  are  pleased  to  condemn,  they  are 
not  only  pardonable  but  altogether  without  blame.  For  it 
is  evident  they  do  not  reproach  others,  but  apologize  for 
themselves. 

This  gave  Demosthenes  a  glorious  freedom,  yet  allayed 
the  offensive  brightness  of  his  own  praises,  which  almost 
everywhere  shine  through  his  whole  Oration  on  the  Crown, 
in  which  he  extols  those  embassies  and  decrees  w^hich  were 
so  much  objected  against  him. 

8.  Not  much  unlike  this  is  the  insinuating  delicacy  of  an 
antithesis,  when  a  person,  being  accused  for  any  thing  as 
a  crime,  demonstrates  its  opposite  to  be  base  and  vicious. 
So  Lycurgus,  being  upbraided  by  the  Athenians  for  stop¬ 
ping  a  sycophant’s  ruouth  with  money,  said  :  And  what  kind 
of  citizen  do  you  then  take  me  to  be,  who,  having  so  long 
managed  the  affairs  of  the  republic  amongst  you,  am  at  last 
found  rather  to  have  given  than  to  have  received  money 
unjustly'?  And  Cicero,  Metellus  objecting  he  had  cast 
more  by  his  evidence  against  them  than  ever  he  had  ac¬ 
quitted  by  his  pleading  for  them,  replies :  Who  therefore 
will  not  freely  declare  that  Cicero  has  more  honesty  and 
faith  than  eloquence  ?  Many  expressions  of  this  nature 
are  in  Demosthenes  ;  particularly.  But  who  might  not  justly 
have  slain  me,  if  I  had  endeavored  in  word  only  to  sully 
the  honors  and  glorious  titles  which  the  city  hath  *?  Or, 
What,  think  you,  would  those  vile  fellows  have  said,  if. 


WITHOUT  BEING  ENVIED. 


109 


whilst  I  had  been  curiously  poring  on  other  things,  the 
cities  had  rejected  our  alliance '?  *  And  all  his  foremen- 
tioned  oration  ingeniously  dresses  these  antitheses  and  solu¬ 
tions  of  cases  with  the  subtle  ornaments  of  his  own  praise. 

9.  But  this  may  very  profitably  be  learned  therein,  that, 
delicately  tempering  the  encomiums  of  his  auditors  with 
the  things  relating  to  himself,  he  secures  himself  from 
being  liable  to  envy,  nor  becomes  suspected  of  self-love. 
There  he  relates  in  what  manner  the  Athenians  behaved 
themselves  to  the  Euboeans,  in  what  manner  to  the .  The¬ 
bans,  and  what  benefits  they  conferred  upon  those  of 
Byzantium  and  Chersonesus  ;  in  all  which  he  confesses  his 
part  was  only  that  of  their  minister  or  steward.  Thus  by 
a  rhetorical  deceit,  he  finely  and  insensibly  instils  his  own 
praises  into  his  hearers,  who  pleasingly  hang  upon  his 
words,  and  rejoice  at  the  commemoration  of  those  worthy 
deeds.  Now  this  joy  is  immediately  seconded  by  admira¬ 
tion,  and  admiration  is  succeeded  by  a  liking  and  love  of 
that  person  who  so  wisely  administered  the  affairs.  This 
Epaminondas  seems  to  have  considered,  when  reviled  by 
Meneclidas,  as  though  he  had  an  higher  opinion  of  him¬ 
self  than  ever  Agamemnon  had.  If  it  be  so,  says  he, 
Thebans,  ’tis  you  have  puffed  me  up ;  you,  by  whose  help 
alone  I  overthrew  the  Lacedaemonian  empire  in  one  day. 

10.  But  since  for  the  most  part  men  are  exceedingly 
displeased  with  those  who  are  the  trumpeters  of  their  owm 
fame,  but  if  they  sound  forth  another’s,  are  delighted  and 
give  them  cheerful  acclamations ;  it  is  hence  grown  a  fre¬ 
quent  custom  amongst  orators,  by  a  seasonable  extolling 
those  who  have  like  purposes,  actions,  and  manner  of 
life  with  theirs,  to  assure  and  wheedle  over  the  auditory 
to  themselves.  For  the  hearers  know  that,  though  the 
panegyrist  solemnizes  another’s  worth,  he  has  yet  the  same 
endowments  of  virtue,  so  that  his  encomiums  will  redound 

'  *  Demosthenes  on  the  Crown,  p.  260,  1 ;  p.  307,  9. 


110 


HOW  A  MAN  MAY  PRAISE  HIMSELF 


to  himself.  For  as  he  who  reproaches  any  man  for 
faults  of  which  he  himself  is  guilty  cannot  hut  perceive 
he  principally  upbraids  himself,  so  the  vhtuous,  by  giving 
applauses  to  the  virtuous,  offer  their  own  praises  to  the 
a])prehensive,  who  will  presently  cry  out.  And  are  not  you 
one  of  these  ?  Therefore  Alexander  honoring  Hercules, 
and  x\ndrocottus  again  honoring  Alexander,  in  effect  pro¬ 
posed  themselves  to  be  in  like  manner  honored  by 
others.  So  Dionysius  scoffing  Gelon,  and  calling  him  the 
Gelos  (or  laughing-stock)  of  Sicily,  was  not  aware  that 
through  envy  he  had  happened  to  infringe  the  greatness 
of  his  own  authority  and  power. 

11.  These  things  the  man  of  state  must  know  and  ob¬ 
serve.  Now  those  who  are  forced  upon  then*  own  praises 
are  the  more  epccusable,  if  they  arrogate  not  the  causes 
wholly  to  themselves,  but  ascribe  them  in  part  to  Fortune 
and  in  part  to  God.  Achilles  therefore  said : 

♦ 

Since  now  at  length  the  powerful  will  of  heaveh 

The  dire  destroyer  to  our  arm  has  given.* 

And  Timoleon  did  well,  who  erected  a  fane  to  Fortune, 
and  dedicated  his  house  to  the  Good  Genius,  to  whom  he 
referred  the  felicity  of  his  attempts.  But  best  of  all.  Py¬ 
thon  of  Aenos,  after  he  had  slain  Cotys,  coming  to  Athens 
and  perceiving  the  orators  very  busy  in  applauding  him  to 
the  people,  which  displeased  many  and  stirred  them  up 
to  envy,  thus  speaks :  These  things,  ye  Athenians,  some  of 
the  Gods  have  done  ;  our  hands  were  only  the  instruments 
of  their  work.  Sylla  also  prevented  envy  by  perpetually 
praising  Fortune,  not  his  own  prowess ;  and  at  last  sur-  ^ 
named  himself  Epaphroditus,  in  acknowledgment  that  his 
success  proceeded  from  the  care  of  Venus.  For  men  will 
more  readily  impute  a  defeat  to  chance  or  the  pleasure  of 
some  God  than  to  the  virtue  of  the  conqueror  ;  for  the  one 
they  think  to  be  a  good  not  pertinent  to  the  conqueror,  but 


*  II.  XXII.  379. 


WITHOUT  BEING  ENVIED. 


Ill 


tli^  other  to  be  a  proper  defect  of  their  own,  which  pro- 
ceedeth  from  themselves.  The  laws  therefore  of  Zaleucus 
were  reeeived  by  the  Locrians  with  the  more  willingness 
and  delight,  because  he  had  told  them  Minerva  constantly 
appeared  to  him  and  dictated  and  instructed  him  in  those 
laws,  and  that  they  were  none  of  them  his  own  inventions. 

12.  This  kind  of  excuses  may  be  framed  as  convenient 
remedies  or  preventions  when  we  have  to  do  with  persons 
of  a  ditticult  or  envious  humor.  But'  it  is  not  amiss  to  use 
some  little  revocations  or  corrections  of  what  may  seem 
spoken  to  our  praise,  before  those  who  are  of  a  sedate  and 
composed  temper.  If  any  commend  us  as  those  who  have 
learning,  riches,  or  authority,  we  should  hinder  them  from 
choosing  such  topics,  and  rather  desire  of  them,  if  they 
can,  to  take  notice  of  us  as  innocent,  good,  and  useful. 
Thus  we  do  not  so  much  confer  as  transfer  praises,  and 
seem  not  to  be  puffed  up  with  our  applauders,  but  rather 
to  be  offended  that  they  have  not  praised  conveniently  and 
for  truly  meritorious  things.  We  hide  also  inferior  with 
better  qualifications  ;  yet  not  as  desiring  to  be  commended, 
but  as  teaching  to  commend  aright.  Such  forms  as  these 
may  be  referred  hither :  It  is  true,  I  have  not  walled  the 
city  with  stones  or  brick ;  but  if  you  will  view  my  fortifi¬ 
cations,  you  shall  find  armor,  and  horses,  and  confederates.* 
But  more  apt  is  that  of  Pericles.  When  his  friends  be¬ 
wailed  him  in  the  extremities  of  death,  they  put  him  in 
mind  of  his  authority  and  the  great  offices  he  had  dis¬ 
charged,  as  also  what  victories,  trophies,  and  cities  he  had 
left  the  Athenians  ;  but  he,  raising  himself  a  little,  reproved 
them  as  fixing  only  upon  common  encomiums,  and  en¬ 
larging  rather  on  those  of  fortune  than  on  those  of  virtue, 
whereas  they  neglected  the  greatest  matter,  which  was 
more  peculiar  to  himself,  —  that  he  had  never  been  the 
occasion  of  any  Athenian’s  wearing  black.  And  hence 

*  Demosthenes  on  the  Crown,  p.  325,  22. 


112  HOW  A  MAN  MAY  PRAISE  HIMSELF 

the  orator  may  learn,  if  he  be  a  good  man,  to  transfer  the 
eiilogiums  of  his  eloquence  to  his  virtuous  life  and  man¬ 
ners  ;  and  the  commander  who  is  admired  and  applauded 
for  his  conduct  and  happy  fortune  in  the  wars  may  freely 
propose  his  clemency  or  justice  as  more  worthy  to  be 
praised.  Nay,  further,  it  becomes  even  an  emperor,  upon 
a  profusion  of  such  glutting  praises  as  flatterers  are  com¬ 
monly  guilty  of,  to  say  something. of  this  nature: 

No  God  am  I.  Wliy  do  ye  equal  me 

Thus  to  th’  immortal  powers.* 

If  you  know  me  well,  let  my  justice  or  temperance,  my 
equanimity  or  humanity,  be  rather  spoken  of.  For  even 
envy  herself  can  easily  concede  the  lesser  honors  to  him 
who  refuses  the  greater ;  nor  will  it  rob  any  of  true  en¬ 
comiums,  not  to  expect  false  and  vain  ones.  Therefore 
several  princes,  who  permitted  not  themselves  to  be  called 
Gods  or  the  offspring  of  the  Gods,  have  yet  assumed  the 
titles  Philadelphus,  Philometor,  Evergetes,  or  Theophilus ; 
and  were  never  offended  when  they  were  honored  with 
those  glorious  yet  human  appellations. 

Again,  they  who  in  their  writings  and  sayings  are  abso¬ 
lute  votaries  to  wisdom  by  no  means  will  be  called  aoq)oi  (or 
wise  men),  but  can  presently  swallow  the  epithet  of  philos¬ 
ophers  (or  lovers  of  wisdom),  or  that  of  proficients,  or  any 
other  easy  name  which  sounds  not  big  nor  exposes  them  to 
envy  ;  and  so  they  beget  and  preserve  a  good  esteem.  But 
your  rhetorical  sophisters,  whilst  in  their  orations  they 
gape  for  the  extraordinary  acclamations  of  divine,  angel¬ 
ical,  wonderful,  lose  even  those  common  ones  of  manly  or 
pretty  well. 

13.  Now  as  skilful  painters,  that  they  may  not  offend 
those  that  have  weak  eyes,  allay  their  over-bright  and 
gaudy  colors  by  tempering  them  with  darker  ;  so  there  are 
some  who  will  not  represent  their  own  praises  altogether 


*  Odyss.  XVL  187. 


WITHOUT  BEING  ENVIED. 


113 


glaring  and  immoderately  splendid,  but  cast  in  some  de¬ 
fects,  some  scapes  or  slight  faults,  to  take  away  the  danger 
of  displeasure  or  envy.  Epeus  intolerably  brags  of  his 
skill  in  boxing. 

I’ll  crush  my  adversary’s  body,  break  his  bones ; 

yet  he  would  seem  to  qualify  all  with  this, 

Is ’t  not  enough  that  I’m  in  fight  unskilled  1  * 

But,  to  say  truth,  to  excuse  his  arrogance  with  so  base  a 
confession  is  ridiculous.  He  then  who  would  be  an  exact 
man  corrects  himself  for  his  forgetfulness,  ignorance,  am¬ 
bition,  or  eagerness  for  certain  knowledge  and  discourses. 
So  does  Ulysses  when  he  says  of  the  Sirens, 

Thus  the  sweet  charmers  warbled  o’er  the  main , 

My  soul  takes  wing  to  meet  the  heavenly  strain  ; 

I  give  the  sign,  and  struggle  to  be  free  ; 

and  again,  when  he  sang  of  his  visit  to  the  Cyclops, 

Their  wholesome  counsel  rashly  I  declined, 

Curious  to  view  the  man  of  monstrous  kind. 

And  try  what  social  rites  a  savage  lends.t 

And  for  the  most  part  it  is  a  good  antidote  against  envy, 
to  mix  amongst  our  praises  those  faults  that  are  not  al¬ 
together  ungenerous  and  base.  Therefore  many  temper 
them  not  only  with  confessions  of  poverty  or  unskilfulness, 
but  even  of  vile  descent.  So  Agathocles,  carousing  amongst 
the  Sicilian  youth  in  golden  bowls  very  curiously  wrought, 
commanded  earthen  pots  to  be  brought  in.  See  (says  he) 
what  diligence,  laboriousness,  and  fortitude  can  do  !  Once 
we  made  muggen  jugs,  but  now  vessels  of  gold.  For  his 
original  was  so  mean  and  contemptible,  that  it  was  thought 
he  had  served  in  a  potter’s  shop  who  at  last  governed 
almost  all  Sicily. 

14.  These  are  the  outward  preventions  or  remedies 
against  diseases  that  may  arise  from  the  speaking  of  one’s 

♦  11.  XXIII.  673  and  670.  t  Odyss.  XII.  192  ;  IX.  228. 


114 


HOW  A  MAN  MAY  PRAISE  HIMSELF 


self.  There  are  some  others  inward,  which  Cato  has  re¬ 
course  to  when  he  tells  us  he  was  envied  for  neglecting 
his  domestic  affairs  and  being  vigilant  whole  nights  in  those 
of  his  country.  So  with  this  : 

How  shall  I  boast,  who  grew  so  easily, 

Though  mustered  ’mongst  the  common  soldiery ; 

Great  in  my  fortune  as  the  bravest  be  ? 

And  this : 

But  I  am  loath  to  lose  past  labor’s  gains ; 

Nor  will  retreat  from  a  fresh  troop  of  pains.* 

For  as  they  who  obtain  great  possessions  of  houses  or 
lands  gratis  and  with  little  difficulty  are  under  the  eye  of 
envy,  but  not  if  their  purchases  were  troublesome  and  dear, 
so  it  is  with  them  who  arrive  at  honor  and  applause. 

15.  Well  then,  since  it  is  evident  we  may  praise  our¬ 
selves  not  only  inoffensively  and  without  being  liable  to 
envy,  but  with  great  advantage  too  ;  that  Ave  may  seem  not 
to  do  this'  for  itself,  but  for  a  further  and  better  end,  first 
consider  Avhether  it  may  prove  for  the  instruction  of  the 
company,  by  exciting  them  to  a  virtuous  emulation.  For 
so  Nestor’s  relation  of  his  own  achievements  inflamed 
Patroclus  and  nine  others  with  a  vehement  desire  of  single 
combat ;  and  we  knoAV  the  counsel  that  brings  persuasive 
deeds  as  Avell  as  Avords,  a  lively  exemplar,  and  an  imme¬ 
diate  familiar  incentive,  insouls  a  man  Avith  courage, 
moves,  yea,  vehemently  spurs  him  up  to  such  a  resolution 
of  inind  as  cannot  doubt  the  possibility  and  success  of 
the  attempt.  This  Avas  the  reason  of  that  chorus  in  Lace¬ 
daemon  consisting  of  boys,  young  men,  and  old  men,  Avhich 
thus  sang  in  parts  :  — 

Old  Men.  Once  we  were  young,  and  bold  and  strong. 

Boys.  And  we  shall  be  no  less  ere  long. 

Young  Men.  We  now  are  such;  behold  us,  if  you  wilLj 

Well  and  politicly  in  this  public  entertainment  did  the 
legislator  propose  to  the  youth  obvious  and  domestic  ex 

*  From  tlie  Philoctetes  of  Euripides,  Frag.  785  and  787.  t  See  Vol.  1.  p.  91. 


* 


WITHOUT  BEING  ENVIED.  "115 

amples  of  such  as  had  already  performed  the  things  he 
exhorted  them  to. 

16.  Moreover,  it  is  not  only  available  for  the  exciting  of 
a  generous  emulation,  but  sometimes  requisite  for  the 
silencing  and  taming  an  insolent  and  audacious  man,  to 
talk  a  little  gloriously  of  one’s  self.  As  Nestor  in  this : 

I  have  conversed  with  men  more  gallant  far 

Than  you  ;  much  your  superiors  they  in  all  things  were. 

Nor  did  they  ever  to  contemn  me  dare.* 

And  Aristotle  writes  to  Alexander,  that  not  only  those 
who  have  mighty  empires  may  think  highly  of  themselves, 
but  they  also  who  have  worthy  thoughts  and  notions  of  the 
Gods.  Such  a  remark  as  this  is  also  profitable  against 
enemies,  and  recalls  the  spirits : 

Weak  sons  of  misery  our  strength  oppose.t 

And  such  a  refiection  as  that  of  Agesilaus,  who  said 
concerning  the  king  of  Persia,  when  he  heard  him  called 
the  Great :  And  who  is  greater  than  I,  unless  he  be  more 
justl  So  Epaminondas  answered  the  Lacedaemonians, 
when  they  had  spun  out  a  long  accusation  against  the 
Thehans  :  I  see  then  we  have  forced  you  out  of  your  wonted 
humor  of  short  speech. 

f 

The  like  to  these  are  proper  against  adversaries ;  but 
amongst  our  friends  and  fellow-citizens  a  seasonable  glory¬ 
ing  is  good  not  only  to  humble  and  throw  down  their 
haughtiness,  but  if  they  be  fearful  or  astonished,  to  fetch 
back  their  courage  and  teach  them  to  rally  up  themselves 
again.  Therefore  Cyrus  in  perils  and  battles  talked  at  a 
thundering  rate,  but  otherwise  was  mild  and  gentle  in  dis¬ 
course.  And  Antigonus  the  Second  generally  was  modest 
and  free  from  blustering  ;  but  at  the  sea-fight  at  Cos,  — 
one  of  his  friends  saying.  See  you  not  how  much  greater 
the  number  of  the  enemy’s  ships  is  than  ours  1  —  he  answers, 
And  for  how  many  ships  dost  thou  reckon  me  ? 

*  II.  I.  260.  t  II.  VI.  127.  . 


I 


116 


HOW  A  MAN  MAY  PRAISE  HIMSELF 


This  Homer  seems  to  have  considered,  who  makes 
Ulysses,  when  his  friends  were  dismayed  at  the  noise  and 
horrible  waves  of  Charybdis,  immind  them  of  his  former 
stratagems  and  valor : 

O  friends  !  O  often  tried  in  adverse  storms  ! 

With  ills  familiar  in  more  dreadful  forms  ! 

Deep  in  the  dire  Cyclopean  den  you  lay. 

Yet  safe  return’d,  —  Ulysses  led  the  way.* 

For  this  kind  of  praise  is  not  such  as  the  haranguers  to 
the  people  or  sophistical  beggars  use,  nor  those  who  affect 
popular  humming  and  applause ;  but  a  necessary  pledge 
of  that  courage  and  conduct  which  must  be  given  to 
hearten  up  our  friends.  For  we  know  that  opinion  and 
confidence  in  him  whom  we  esteem  endued  with  the  forti¬ 
tude  and  experience  of  a  complete  captain  is,  in  the  crisis 
of  a  battle,  no  small  advantage  to  the  obtaining  of  the 
day. 

17.  We  have  before  declared  the  opposing  of  himself  to 
the  reputation  and  credit  of  another  to  be  altogether  unbe¬ 
fitting  a  worthy  man  ;  but  where  a  vicious  praise  becomes 
hurtful  and  corruptive,  creating  an  earnestness  after  evil 
things  or  an  evil  purpose  in  great  matters,  it  is  not  un¬ 
profitable  to  refuse  it ;  but  it  becomes  us  to  direct  the 
minds  of  the  company  towards  better  sentiments  of  things, 
showing  them  the  difference.  For  certainly  any  one  will 
be  pleased  when  he  sees  many  voluntarily  abstaining  from 
the  vices  they  heard  cried  down  and  reproved  •  but  if  base¬ 
ness  be  well  accounted  of,  and  honor  be  made  to  attend  on 
him  who  pursues  pleasure  or  avarice,  where  is  the  nature 
so  happily  strong  that  can  resist,  much  less  conquer,  the 
temptation  1  Therefore  a  generous  and  discreet  person 
must  set  himself  against  the  praises,  not  of  evil  men,  but 
of  evil  actions ;  for  this  kind  of  commendation  perverts 
the  judgments  of  men,  and  miserably  leads  them  to  imitate 


*  Odyss.  XII.  209. 


WITHOUT  BEING  ENVIED. 


nr 


and  emulate  unworthy  practices  as  laudable.  But  they 
may  be  easily  bewrayed  by  confronting  them  with  opposite 
truths.  Theodorus  the  tragedian  is  reported  to  have  said 
to  Satyrus  the  comedian,  It  is  not  so  wonderful  an  art  to 
move  the  theatre’s  laughter  as  to  force  its  tears.  But  if 
some  philosopher  should  have  retorted,  Aye ;  but,  friend, 
it  is  not  so  fit  and  seemly  to  make  men  weep,  as  to  remove 
and  free  them  from  their  sorrows,  it  is  likely  by  this  odd 
way  ot  commending  himself  he  would  have  delighted  his 
hearer,  and  endeavored  to  alter  or  secure  his  judgment. 
So  Zeno  knew  how  to  speak  for  himself,  when  the  great 
number  of  Theophrastus’s  scholars  was  opposed  to  the 
fewness  of  his,  saying.  His  chorus  is  indeed  greater  than 
mine,  but  mine  is  sweeter.  And  Phocion,  while  Leosthenes 
yet  prospered,  being  asked  by  the  orators  what  good  he 
had  done  the  city,  replies :  Nothing  but  this,  that  in  my 
government  of  you  there  have  been  no  funeral  orations, 
but  all  the  deceased  were  buried  in  the  sepulchres  of  their 
ancestors.  So  Crates,  by  way  of  antithesis  to  this  epitaph 
of  the  glutton. 

What  I  have  eat  is  mine  ;  in  words  my  will 

I’ve  had,  and  of  my  lust  have  took  my  fill, 

well  opposes  these, 

What  I  have  learnt  is  mine  ;  I’ve  had  my  thought. 

And  me  the  Muses  noble  truths  have  taught. 

This  kind  of  praise  is  amiable  and  advantageous,  teach¬ 
ing  to  admire  and  love  convenient  and  profitable  things 
instead  of  the  superfluous  and  vain.  Thus  much  for  the 
stating  of  the  question,  in  what  cases  and  how  far  self- 
praise  may  be  inoffensive. 

18.  Now  the  order  of  the  discourse  requires  to  show 
how  an  uncomely  and  unseasonable  affectation  of  praise 
may  be  avoided.  Discourse  of  a  man’s  self  usually  sallies 
from  self-love,  as  from  its  fort,  and  is  there  observed  to 
lay  wait,  even  in  those  who  are  vulgarly  thought  free 


118 


HOW  A  MAN  MAY  PRAISE  HIMSELF 


enough  from  ambition.  Therefore,  as  it  is  one  of  the 
rules  of  health  to  avoid  dangerous  and  unwholesome 
places,  or  being  in  them  to  take  the  greater  care,  so 
ought  there  to  be  a  like  rule  concerning  converse  and 
speaking  of  one’s  self.  For  this  kind  of  talk  has  sli]>- 
pery  occasions,  into  which  we  unawares  and  indiscernibly 
are  apt  to  fall. 

For  first  (as  is  above  said),  ambition  usually  intrudes 
into  the  praises  of  others  with  some  flourishing  remarks 
to  adorn  herself.  For  let  a  person  be  commended  by  his 
equal  or  inferior,  the  mind  of  the  ambitious  is  tickled  and 
rubbed  at  the  hearing  of  his  praise,  and  immediately  he 
is  hurried  by  an  intemperate  desire  and  precipitation  after 
the  like ;  as  the  appetite  of  the  hungry  is  sharpened  by 
seeing  others  eat. 

19.  In  the  second  place,  the  story  of  men’s  prosperous 
actions  naturally  carries  them  into  the  humor  of  boasting ; 
and  joy  so  far  transports  them,  that  they  swell  with  their 
own  words  when  they  would  give  you  a  relation  of  their 
victories  or  their  success  in  the  business  of  the  state,  or 
of  their  other  publicly  applauded  actions  or  orations,  and 
find  it  difficult  to  contain  themselves  and  preserve  a  mean. 
In  which  kind  of  error  it  is  observable  that  soldiers  and 
mariners  are  most  entangled.  Nor  is  it  infrequent  with 
those  who  return  from  the  government  of  provinces  and 
the  management  of  great  affairs.  Such  as  these,  when 
mention  is  once  made  of  illustrious  and  royal  personages, 
presently  thrust  in  some  eulogies  of  themselves,  as  pro¬ 
ceeding  from  the  favor  and  kind  opinion  of  those  princes ; 
and  then  they  fancy  they  seem  not  at  all  to  have  praised 
themselves,  but  to  have  given  only  a  bare  account  what 
great  men  have  said  honorably  of  them.  So  another  sort, 
little  different  from  these,  think  they  are  not  discerned 
when  they  tell  you  all  the  familiarities  of  kings  and  em¬ 
perors  with  them  and  their  particular  applying  themselves 


WITHOUT  BEING  ENVIED. 


119 


to  them  in  discourse,  and  appear  to  recount  them,  not  as 
thereby  intending  their  own  honor,  but  as  bringing  in  con¬ 
siderable  evidences  of  singular  affability  and  humanity  in 
persons  so  exceeding  great. 

We  see  then  what  reason  we  have  to  look  narrowly  to 
ourselves,  that,  whilst  we  confer  praises  on  others,  we 
give  no  ground  for  suspicion  that  we  make  them  but  the 
vehicles  of  our  own,  and  that,  “  in  pretending  to  celebrate 
Patroclus,”  under  his  name  we  mean  romantically  ourselves. 

20.  Further,  that  kind  of  discourse  which  consists  in 
dispraising  and  finding  fault  is  dangerous,  and  yields  op¬ 
portunity  to  those  that  watch  it  for  the  magnifying  their 
own  little  worth.  Of  this  old  men  are  inclinable  to  be 
guilty,  when,  by  chastising  and  debasing  others  for  their 
vices,  they  exalt  themselves  as  wonderfully  great  in  the 
opposite  virtues.  Indeed  to  these  there  must  be  a  very 
large  concession,  if  they  be  reverend  not  only  in  age,  but 
in  virtue  and  place ;  for  it  is  not  altogether  an  unprofit¬ 
able  way,  since  it  may  sometimes  create  an  extraordinary 
zeal  and  emulation  of  honor  in  those  who  are  thus  spurred 
up.  But  otherwise  that  sort  of  humor  is  carefully  to  be 
shunned  ;  for  reproof  is  often  bitter,  and  wants  a  great 
deal  of  caution  to  sweeten  and  correct  it.  Now  this  is 
not  done  by  the  tempering  our  own  praises  with  the  rep¬ 
rehension  of  another ;  for  he  is  an  unworthy  and  odious 
fellow  who  seeks  his  own  credit  through  any  man’s  dis¬ 
grace,  basely  endeavoring  to  build  a  slight  reputation  of 
his  virtue  upon  the  discovery  of  another’s  crimes. 

21.  Lastly,  as  they  who  are  naturally  inclined  to  a  dan¬ 
gerous  sort  of  laughter,  —  which  is  a  kind  of  violent  pas¬ 
sion  or  disease,  —  must  preserve  especially  the  smooth 
parts  of  the  body  from  tickling  incentives,  which  cause 
these  parts  to  yield  and  relent,  thus  provoking  the  pas¬ 
sion  ;  so  they  whose  minds  are  soft  and  propense  to  the 
desires  of  reputation  must  carefully  beware  that  they  be 


120 


HOW  A  MAN  MAY  PRAISE  HIMSELF 


not  precipitated  by  the  ticklings  of  another’s  praises  into 
a  vaporing  of  themselves.  They  ought  rather  to  blush, 
if  they  hear  themselves  commended,  and  not  put  on  a 
brazen  face.  They  ought  modestly  and  handsomely  to 
reprove  their  applauders  as  having  honored  them  too 
much,  and  not  chide  them  for  having  been  too  sparing  in 
their  praise.  Yet  in  this  many  offend,  putting  those  who 
speak  advantageously  of  them  in  mind  of  more  things  of 
the  same  nature ;  endeavoring  to  make  a  huge  heap  of 
creditable  actions,  till  by  what  they  themselves  add  they 
spoil  all  that  their  friends  have  conferred  to  the  promot¬ 
ing  their  esteem. 

Some  there  are  who  flatter  themselves,  till  they  are  stu¬ 
pidly  puffed  up ;  others  allure  a  man  to  talk  of  himself, 
and  take  him  by  casting  some  little  gilded  temptation  in 
his  way  ;  and  another  sort  for  a  little  sport  Avill  be  putting 
questions,  as  those  in  Menander  to  the  silly  braggadocio 
soldier : 

How  did  you  get  this  wound  ? 

By  a  furious  dart. 

For  heaven’s  sake,  how  ? 

~  As  from  my  scaling  ladder 
I  mounted  the  proud  walls.  See  here  !  Behold  I 

Then  I  proceed  to  show  my  wound 
With  earnest  look ;  but  they  spoiled  all  with  laughter. 

22.  We  must  be  watchful  in  all  these  cases,  that  we' 
neither  of  ourselves  drop  into  our  own  inconvenient 
praises,  nor  be  hooked  into  them  by  others.  Now  the 
best  and  most  certain  way  of  security  is  to  look  back 
upon  such  as  we  can  remember  guilty  of  this  fault,  and 
to  consider  how  absurd  and  ugly  it  is  accounted  by  all 
men,  and  that  hardly  any  thing  is  in  converse  a  greater 
disturbance  than  this. 

Hence  it  is  that,  though  there  be  no  other  quality  in 
such  persons  unpleasing,  yet,  as  if  Nature  had  taught  us 
to  abhor  and  fly  it,  we  hasten  out  to  get  a  little  fresh  air ; 


WITHOUT  BEING  ENVIED. 


121 


and  even  the  very  parasite  and  indigent  flatterers  are  »un- 
easy,  when  the  wealthy  and  great  men  by  whose  scraps 
they  live  begin  to  admire  and  extol  themselves  ;  nay, 
they  give  out  that  they  pay  the  greatest  portion  of  the 
shot,  when  they  must  give  ear  to  such  vanities.  There¬ 
fore  he  in  Menander  cries  out. 

They  kill  me  —  lam  a  macerated  guest  — 

With  their  wise  sayings  and  their  soldier’s  brags ; 

How  base  these  gloriosos  are  ! 

But  these  faults  are  not  only  to  be  objected  against 
common  soldiers  and  upstarts  who  detain  others  with 
gaudy  and  proud  relations  of  their  own  actions,  but  also 
against  sophists,  philosophers,  and  commanders  who  grow 
full  of  themselves  and  talk  at  a  fastuous  rate.  Therefore 
it  is  fit  we  still  remember  that  another’s  dispraise  always 
accompanies  the  indiscreet  praises  of  ourselves ;  that  the 
end  of  vain-glory  is  disgrace ;  and  that,  as  Demosthenes 
tells  us,  the  company  will  both  be  offended  and  judge 
otherwise  of  us  than  we  would  have  them."^  Let  us  then 
forbear  to  talk  of  ourselves,  unless  the  profit  that  we  or 
our  hearers  may  thence  probably  reap  be  considerably 
great. 

*  See  Demosthenes  on  the  Crown,  p.  270,  3. 


A  DISCOURSE  CONCERNING  SOCRATES’S  DAEMON. 


CAPHISIAS,  TIMOTHEUS,  ARCHIDAMUS,  CHILDREN  OF  ARCHINUS, 

LYSITHIDES,  OTHER  COMPANIONS. 

1.  I  HEARD  lately,  Caphisias,  a  neat  saying  of  a  painter, 
comprised  in  a  similitude  upon  those  that  came  to  view  his 
pictures.  For  he  said,  the  ignorant  and  unskilful  were  like 
those  that  saluted  a  whole  company  together,  but  the 
curious  and  knowing  like  those  that  complimented  each 
single  person ;  for  the  former  take  no  exact,  but  only  one 
'general  view  of  the  performance  ;  but  those  that  with 
judgment  examine  part  by  part  take  notice  of  every  stroke 
that  is  either  well  or  ill  done  in  the  whole  picture.  The 
duller  and  lazy  sort  are  abundantly  satisfied  with  a  short 
account  and  upshot  of  any  business.  But  he  that  is  of  a 
generous  and  noble  temper,  that  is  fitted  to  be  a  spectator 
of  virtue,  as  of  a  curious  piece  of  art,  is  more  delighted 
with  the  particulars.  For,  upon  a  general  view,  much  of 
fortune  is  discovered ;  but  when  the  particulars  are  ex¬ 
amined,  then  appear  the  art  and  contrivance,  the  boldness 
in  conquering  intervening  accidents,  and  the  reason  that 
was  mixed  with  and  tempered  the  heat  and  fury  of  the 
undertakers.  Suppose  us  to  be  of  this  sort,  and  give  us 
an  account  of  the  whole  design,  how  from  the  very  begin¬ 
ning  it  was  carried  on,  what  company  you  kept,  and  what 
particular  discourse  you  had  that  day  ;  —  a  thing  so  much 
desired,  that  I  protest  I  would  willingly  go  to  Thebes  to  be 


CONCERNING  SOCRATES’S  DAEMON. 


123 


informed,  did  not  the  Athenians  already  suspect  me  to  lean 
too  much  to  the  Boeotian  interest. 

Caphisias.  Indeed  Archidamus,  your  kind  eagerness 
after  this  story  is  so  obliging,  that,  putting  myself  above  all 
business  (as  Pindar  says),  I  should  have  come  on  purpose 
to  give  you  a  relation.  But  since  I  am  now  come  upon  an 
embassy,  and  have  nothing  to  do  until  I  receive  an  answer 
to  my  memorial,  to  be  uncivil  and  not  to  satisfy  the  request 
ol  an  obliging  friend  would  revive  the  old  reproach  that 
hath  been  cast  upon  the  Boeotians  for  morose  sullenness  and 
hating  good  discourse,  a  reproach  which  began  to  die  in 
the  time  of  Socrates.  But  as  for  the  rest  of  the  company, 
pray  sir,  are  they  at  leisure  to  hear  such  a  story  ]  —  for  I 
must  be  very  long,  since  you  enjoin  me  to  add  the  particu¬ 
lar  discourses  that  passed  between  us. 

Arch.  You  do  not  know  the  men,  Caphisias,  though 
they  are  worthy  your  acquaintance  ;  men  of  good  families, 
and  no  enemies  to  you.  This  is  Lysithides,  Thrasybulus’s 
nephew  ;  this  Timotheus,  the  son  of  Conon  ;  these 
Archinus’s  sons ;  and  all  the  rest  my  very  good  acquaint¬ 
ance,  so  that  you  need  not  doubt  a  favorable  and  obliging 
audience. 

Caph.  Very  well ;  but  where  shall  I  begin  the  story? 
How  much  of  these  affairs  are  you  acquainted  with 
already  ? 

Arch.  We  know,  Caphisias,  how  matters  stood  at 
Thebes  before  the  exiles  returned,  —  how  Archias,  Leon- 
tidas,  and  their  associates,  having  persuaded  Phoebidas  the 
Spartan  in  the  time  of  peace  to  surprise  that  castle,  ban¬ 
ished  some  of  the  citizens,  awed  others,  took  the  power 
into  their  own  hands,  and  tyrannized  against  all  equity  and 
law.  We  understood  Melon’s  and  Pelopidas’s  designs, 
having  (as  you  know)  entertained  them,  and  having  con¬ 
versed  with  them  ever  since  they  were  banished.  We 
knew  likewise  that  the  Spartans  fined  Phoebidas  for  taking 


124 


A  DISCOURSE  CONCERNING 


the  Cadmea,  and  in  their  expedition  to  Olynthus  cashiered 
him  ;  but  sent  a  stronger  garrison,  under  Lysinoridas  and 
two  more,  to  command  the  castle ;  and  further,  tljat  Isme- 
nias  presently  after  his  trial  was  basely  murdered.  For 
Gorgidas  wrote  constantly  to  the  exiles,  and  sent  them  all 
the  news  ;  so  that  you  have  nothing  to  do  but  only  to  in¬ 
form  us  in  the  particulars  of  your  friends’  return  and  the 
seizing  of  the  tyrants. 

2.  Carh.  In  those  days,  Archidamus,  all  that  were  con¬ 
cerned  in  the  design,  as  often  as  our  business  required, 

•  used  to  meet  at  Simmias’s  house,  who  then  lay  lame  of  a 
blow  upon  his  shin.  •  This  we  covered  with  a  pretence  of 
meeting  for  improvement  and  philosophical  discourse,  and, 
to  take  off  all  suspicion,  we  many  times  invited  Archias 
and  Leontidas,  who  were  not  altogether  averse  to  such  con¬ 
versation.  Besides,  Simmias,  having  been  a  long  time 
abroad  and  conversant  with  different  nations,  was  lately 
returned  to  Thebes,  full  of  all  sorts  of  stories  and  strange 
relations.  To  him  Archias,  when  free  from  business, 
would  resort  with  the  youth  of  Thebes,  and  sit  and  hear 
with  a  great  deal  of  delight ;  being  better  pleased  to  see 
us  mind  philosophy  and  learning  than  their  illegal  actions. 
Now  the  same  day  in  which  it  was  agreed  that  about  night 
the  exiles  should  come  privately  to  town,  a  messenger, 
whom  none  of  us  all  but  Charon  knew,  came  from  them 
by  Pherenicus’s  order,  and  told  us  that  twelve  of  the 
youngest  of  the  exiles  were  now  hunting  on  the  mountain 
Cithaeron,  and  designed  to  come  at  night,  and  that  he  was 
sent  to  deliver  this  and  to  know  in  whose  house  they  should 
be  received,  that  as  soon  as  they  entered  they  might  go  di¬ 
rectly  thither.  This  startling  us,  Charon  put  an  end  to  all 
our  doubts  by  offering  to  receive  them  in  his  house.  With 
this  answer  the  messenger  returned. 

3.  But  Theocritus  the  soothsayer,  grasping  me  by  the 
hand,  and  looking  on  Charon  that  went  just  before  us,  said : 


SOCRATES’S  DAEMON. 


125 


That  Charon,  Caphisias,  is  no  philosopher,  nor  so  general 
nor  so  acute  a  scholar  as  thy  brother  Epaminondas,  and  yet 
you  see  Jhat,  Nature  leading  him,  under  the  direction  of 
the  law,  to  noble  actions,  he  willingly  ventures  on  the  great¬ 
est  danger  for  the  benefit  of  his  country ;  but  Epami¬ 
nondas,  who  thinks  he  knows  more  of  virtue  than  any  of 
the  Boeotians,  is  dull  and  inactive  ;  and  though  opportunity 
presents,  though  there  cannot  be  a  fairer  occasion,  and 
though  he  is  fitted  to  embrace  it,  yet  he  refuseth  to  join, 
and  will  not  make  one  in  this  generous  attempt.  And  I 
replied :  Courageous  Theocritus,  we  do  what  upon  mature 
deliberation  we  have  approved,  but  Epaminondas,  being  of 
a  contrary  opinion  and  thinking  it  better  not  to  take  this 
course,  rationally  •  complies  with  his  judgment,  whilst  he 
refuseth  to  meddle  in  those  matters  which  his  reason  upon 
our  desire  cannot  approve,  ^and  to  which  his  nature  is 
averse.  Nor  can  I  think  it  prudent  to  force  a  physician  to 
use  fire  and  a  lancet,  that  promiseth  to  cure  the  disease 
without  them.  What,  said  Theocritus,  doth  he  not  ap¬ 
prove  of  our  method]  No,  I  replied,  he  would  have  no 
citizens  put  to  death  without  a  trial  at  law ;  but  if  we 
would  endeavor  to  free  our  country  without  slaughter  and 
bloodshed,  none  would  more  readily  comply ;  but  since  we 
slight  his  reasons  and  follow  our  own  course,  he  desires  to 
be  excused,  to  be  guiltless  of  the  blood  and  slaughter  of 
his  citizens,  and  to  be  permitted  to  watch  an  opportunity  - 
when  he  may  deliver  his  country  according  to  equity  and 
right.  For  this  action  may  go  too  far,  Pherenicus,  it  is 
true,  and  Pelopidas  may  assault  the  bad  men  and  the  op 
pressors  of  the  people  ;  but  Eumolpidas  and  Samidas,  men 
of  extraordinary  heat  and  violence,  prevailing  in  the  night, 
will  hardly  sheathe  their  swords  until  they  have  filled  the 
whole  city  with  slaughter  and  cut  in  pieces  many  of  the 
chief  men. 

4.  Anaxidorus,  overhearing  this  discourse  of  mine  to 


126 


A  DISCOURSE  CONCERNING 


Theocritus  (for  he  was  just  by),  bade  us  be  cautious,  for 
Archias  with  Lysanoridas  the  Spartan  were  coming  from 
the  castle  directly  towards  us.  Upon  this  advice  we  left 
off ;  and  Archias,  calling  Theocritus  aside  together  with 
Lysanoridas,  privately  discoursed  him  a  long  while,  so  that 
we  were  very  much  afraid  lest  they  had  some  suspicion  or 
notice  of  our  design,  and  examined  Theocritus  about  it. 
In  the  mean  time  Phyllidas  (you  know  him,  Archidamus) 
who  was  then  secretary  to  Archias  the  general,  who  knew 
of  the  exiles  coming  and  was  one  of  the  associates,  taking 
me  by  the  hand,  as  he  used  to  do,  before  the  company, 
found  fault  with  the  late  exercises  and  wrestling  he  had 
seen ;  but  afterwards  leading  me  aside,  he  enquired  after 
the  exiles,  and  asked  whether  they  were  resolved  to  be 
punctual  to  the  day.  And  upon  my  assuring  that  they 
were,  then  he  replied,  I  have  very  luckily  provided  a  feast 
to-day  to  treat  Archias,  make  him  drunk,  and  then  deliver 
him  an  easy  prey  to  the  invaders.  Excellently  contrived, 
Phyllidas,  said  I,  and  prithee  endeavor  to  draw  all  or  most 
of  our  enemies  together.  That,  said  he,  is  very  hard,  nay, 
rather  impossible  ;  for  Archias,  being  in  hopes  of  the  com¬ 
pany  of  some  noble  women  there,  will  not  yield  that 
Leontidas  should  be  present,  so  that  it  will  be  necessary  to 
divide  the  associates  into  two  companies,  that  we  may  sur¬ 
prise  both  the  houses.  For,  Archias  and  Leontidas  being 
taken  off,  I  suppose  the  others  will  presently  fly,  or  staying 
make  no  stir,  being  very  well  satisfied  if  they  can  be  per¬ 
mitted  to  be  safe  and  quiet.  So,  said  I,  we  will  order  it ; 
but  about  what,  I  wonder,  are  they  discoursing  with  Theo¬ 
critus?  And  Phyllidas  replied,  1  cannot  certainly  tell,  but 
I  have  heard  that  some  omens  and  oracles  portend  great 
disasters  and  calamities  to  Sparta ;  and  perhaps  they  con¬ 
sult  him  about  those  matters.  Theocritus  had  just  left 
them,  when  Phidolaus  the  Haliartian  meeting  us  said: 
Simmias  would  have  you  stay  here  a  little  while,  for  he  is 


SOCRATES’S  DAEMON. 


127 


interceding  with  Leontidas  for  Amphitheus,  and  begs  that 
instead  of  dying,  according  to  the  sentence,  he  may  be 
banished. 

5.  Well,  said  Theocritus,  this  happens  very  oppor 
timely,  for  I  had  a  mind  to  ask  what  was  seen  and  what 
found  in  Alcmena’s  tomb  lately  opened  amongst  you,  for 
perhaps,  sir,  you  were  present  when  Agesilaus  sent  to 
fetch  the  relics  to  Sparta.  And  Phidolaus  replied  :  Indeed 
I  was  not  present  at  the  opening  of  the  grave,  for  I  was 
not  delegated,  being  extremely  concerned  and  very  angry 
with  my  fellow-citizens  for  permitting  it  to  be  done.  There 
were  found  no  relics  of  a  body ;  but  a  small  brazen  brace¬ 
let,  and  two  earthen  pipkins  full  of  earth,  which  now  by 
length  of  time  was  grown  very  hard  and  petrified.  Upon 
the  monument  there  was  a  brazen  plate  full  of  strange, 
because  very  ancient,  letters ;  for  though,  when  the  plate 
was  washed,  all  the  strokes  were  very  easily  perceived, 
yet  nobody  could  make  any  thing  of  them ;  for  they  were 
a  particular,  barbarous,  and  very  like  the  Egyptian  charac¬ 
ter.  And  therefore  Agesilaus,  as  the  story  goes,  sent  a 
transcript  of  them  to  the  king  of  Egypt,  desiring  him  to 
show  them  to  the  priests,  and  if  they  understood  them,  to 
send  him  the  meaning  and  interpretation'.  But  perhaps 
in  this  matter  Simmias  can  inform  us,  for  at  that  time  he 
studied  their  philosophy  and  frequently  conversed  with 
the  priests  upon  that  account.  The  Haliartii  believe  the 
great  scarcity  and  overflowing  of  the  pool  that  followed 
were  not  effects  of  chance,  but  a  particular  judgment  upon 
them  for  permitting  the  grave  to  be  opened.  And  The¬ 
ocritus,  after  a  little  pause,  said :  Nay,  there  seem  some 
judgments  to  hang  over  the  Lacedaemonians  themselves, 
as  those  omens  about  which  Lysanoridas  just  now  dis¬ 
coursed  me  portend.  And  now  he  is  gone  to  Haliartus  to 
fill  up  the  grave  again,  and,  as  the  oracle  directs,  to  make 
some  oblations  to  Alcmena  and  Aleus ;  but  who  this  Aleus 


128 


A  DISCOURSE  CONCERNING 

m  ♦ 


is,  he  cannot  tell.  And  as  soon  as  he  returns,  he  must 
endeavor  to  find  the  sepulchre  of  Dirce,  which  not  one  of 
the  Thebans  themselves,  besides  the  captains  of  the  horse, 
knows  ;  for  he  that  goes  out  of  his  office  leads  his  successor 
to  the  place  alone,  and  in  the  dark ;  there  they  offer  some 
sacrifices,  but  without  fire,  and  leaving  no  mark  behind 
them,  they  separate  from  one  another,  and  come  home 
again  in  the  dark.  So  that  I  believe,  Phidolaus,  it  will  be 
no  easy  matter  for  him  to  discover  it.  For  most  of  those 
that  have  been  duly  elected  to  that  office  are  now  in  exile ; 
nay,  all  besides  Gorgidas  and  Plato ;  and  they  will  never 
ask  those,  for  they  are  afraid  of  them.  And  our  present 
officers  are  invested  in  the  castle  with  the  spear  only  and 
the  seal,  but  know  nothing  of  the  tomb,  and  cannot  direct 
him. 

6.  Whilst  Theocritus  was  speaking,  Leontidas  and  his 
friends  went  out ;  and  we  going  in  saluted  Simmias,  sitting 
upon  his  couch,  very  much  troubled  because  his  petition 
was  denied.  He,  looking  up  upon  us,  cried  out :  Good 
God !  The  savage  barbarity  of  these  men !  And  was  it 
not  an  excellent  remark  of  Thales,  who,  when  his  friends 
asked  him,  upon  his  return  from  his  long  travels,  what 
strange  news  he  brought  home,  replied,  ‘‘  I  have  seen  a 
tyrant  an  old  man.”  For  even  he  that  hath  received  no 
particular  injury,  yet  disliking  their  stiff  pride  and  haughty 
carriage,  becomes  an  enemy  to  all  lawless  and  unaccount¬ 
able  powers.  But  Heaven  perhaps  will  take  these  things 
into  consideration.  But,  Caphisias,  do  you  know  that 
stranger  that  came  lately  hither,  who  he  is  ?  And  I  re¬ 
plied,  I  do  not  know  whom  you  mean.  Why,  said  he, 
Leontidas  told  me  that  there  was  a  mail  at  night  seen  to 
rise  out  of  Lysis’s  tomb,  with  great  pomp  and  a  long  train 
of  attendants,  and  that  he  had  lodged  there  all  night  upon 
beds  made  of  leaves  and  boughs ;  for  the  next  morning 
such  were  discovered  there,  with  some  relics  of  burnt 


SOCRATES’S  DAEMON. 


129 


sacrifices  and  some  milk-oblations ;  and  that  in  the  morn¬ 
ing  he  enquired  of  every  one  he  met,  whether  he  should 
find  Polymnis’s  sons  at  home.  I  wonder,  said  I,  who  it  is, 
for  by  your  description  I  guess  him  to  be  no  mean  man. 

7.  Well,  said  Phidolaus,  when  he  comes  we  will  enter¬ 
tain  him ;  but  at  the  present,  Simmias,  if  you  know  any 
thing  more  of  those  letters  about  which  we  were  talking, 
pray  let  us  have  it ;  for  it  is  said  that  the  Egyptian  priests 
took  into  consideration  the  writing  of  a  certain  table  which 
Agesilaus  had  from  us  when  he  opened  Alcmena’s  tomb. 
As  for  the  table,  replied  Simmias,  I  know  nothing  of  it ; 
but  Agetoridas  the  Spartan  came  to  Memphis  with  letters 
from  Agesilaus  to  Chonouphis  the  priest,  whilst  I,  Plato, 
and  Ellopio  the  Peparethian,  studied  together  at  his  house. 
He  came  by  order  of  the  king,  who  enjoined  Chonouphis, 
if  he  understood  the  writing,  to  send  him  the  interpreta¬ 
tion  with  all  speed.  And  he  in  three  days’  study,  having 
collected  all  the  different  sorts  of  characters  that  could  be 
found  in  the  old  books,  wrote  back  to  the  king  and  like¬ 
wise  told  us,  that  the  writing  enjoined  the  Greeks  to 
institute  games  in  honor  of  the  Muses ;  that  the  charac¬ 
ters  were  such  as  were  used  in  the  time  of  Proteus,  and 
that  Hercules,  the  son  of  Amphitryo,  then  learned  them ; 
and  that  the  Gods  by  this  admonished  the  Greeks  to  live 
peaceably  and  at  quiet,  to  contend  in  philosophy  to  the 
honor  of  the  Muses,  and,  laying  aside  their  arms,  to  deter¬ 
mine  what  is  right  and  just  by  reason  and  discourse. 
We  then  thought  that  Chonouphis  spoke  right ;  and  that 
opinion  was  confirmed  when,  as  we  were  sailing  from 
Egypt,  about  Caria  some  Delians  met  us,  who  desired 
Plato,  being  well  skilled  in  geometry,  to  solve  an  odd 
oracle  lately  delivered  by  Apollo.  The  oracle  was  this : 
“  Then  the  Delians  and  all  the  other  Greeks  should  enjoy 
some  respite  from  their  present  evils,  when  they  had 
doubled  the  altar .  at  Delos.”  They,  not  comprehending 


130 


A  DISCOURSE  CONCERNING 


the  meaning  of  the  words,  after  many  ridiculous  endeavors 
(for  each  of  the  sides  being  doubled,  they  had  framed  a 
body,  instead  of  twice,  eight  times  as  big)  made  applica¬ 
tion  to  Plato  to  clear  the  difficulty.  He,  calling  to  mind 
Avhat  the  Egyptian  had  told  him,  said  that  the  God  was 
merry  upon  the  Greeks,  who  despised  learning ;  that  he 
severely  reflected  on  their  ignorance,  and  admonished  them 
to  apply  themselves  to  the  deepest  parts  of  geometry  ;  for 
this  was  not  to  be  done  by  a  dull  short-sighted  intellect, 
but  one  exactly  skilled  in  the  natures  and  properties  of 
lines ;  it  required  skill  to  find  the  true  proportion  by 
which  alone  a  body  of  a  cubic  figure  can  be  doubled, 
all  its  dimensions  being  equally  increased.  He  said  that 
Eudoxus  the  Cnidian  or  Helico  the  Cyzicenian  might  do 
this  for  them ;  but  that  was  not  the  thing  desired  by  the 
God ;  for  by  this  oracle  he  enjoined  all  the  Greeks  to 
leave  off  war  and  contention,  and  apply  themselves  to 
study,  and,  by  learning  and  arts  moderating  the  passions, 
to  live  peaceably  with  one  another,  and  profit  the  com¬ 
munity. 

8.  Whilst  Simmias  was  speaking,  my  father  Polymnis 
came  in,  and  sitting  down  by  him  said :  Epaminondas  de¬ 
sires  you  and  the  rest  of  the  company,  unless  some  urgent 
business  requires  your  attendance,  to  stay  for  him  here  a 
little  while,  designing  to  bring  you  acquainted  with  this 
stranger,  who  is  a  very  worthy  man ;  and  the  design  upon 
which  he  comes  is  very  genteel  and  honorable.  He  is  a 
Pythagorean  of  the  Italian  sect,  and  comes  hither  to  make 
some  offerings  to  old  Lysis  at  his  tomb,  according  to  divers 
dreams  and  very  notable  appearances  that  he  hath  seen. 
He  hath  brought  a  good  sum  of  money  with  him,  and 
thinks  himself  bound  to  satisfy  Epaminondas  for  keeping 
Lysis  in  his  old  age ;  and  is  very  eager,  though  we  are 
neither  willing  nor  desire  him,  to  relieve  his  poverty. 
And  Simmias,  glad  at  this  news,  replied :  You  tell  me,  sir, 


I 


SOCRATES’S  DAEMON. 


131 


of  a  wonderful  man  and  worthy  professor  of  philosophy ; 
but  why  doth  he  not  come  directly  to  us  ]  I  think,  said  my 
father,  he  lay  all  night  at  Lysis’s  tomb  ;  and  therefore 
Epaminondas  hath  now  led  him  to  the  Ismenus  to  wash  ; 
and  when  that  is  done,  they  will  be  here.  For  before  he 
came  to  our  house,  he  lodged  at  the  tomb,  intending  to 
take  up  the  relics  of  the  body  and  transport  them  into 
Italy,  if  some  genius  at  night  should  not  advise  him 
to  forbear. 

9.  As  soon  as  my  father  had  ended  this  discourse,  Galaxi- 
dorus  cried  out :  Good  Gods  !  how  hard  a  matter  is  it  to 
find  a  ftian  pure  from  vanity  and  superstition !  For  some 
are  betrayed  into  those  fooleries  by  their  ignorance  and 
weakness  ;  others,  that  they  may  be  thought  extraordinary 
men  and  favorites  of  Heaven,  refer  all  their  actions  to  some 
divine  admonition  pretending  dreams,  visions,  and  the  like 
surprising  fooleries  for  every  thing  they  do.  .This  method 
indeed  is  advantageous  to  those  that  intend  to  settle  a  com 
monwealth,  or  are  forced  to  keep  themselves  up  against  a 
rude  and  ungovernable  multitude  ;  for  by  this  bridle  of 
superstition  they  might  manage  and  reform  the  vulgar  ; 
but  these  pretences  seem  not  only  unbecoming  philosophy, 
but  quite  opposite  to  all  those  fine  promises  she  makes. 
For  having  promised  to  teach  us  by  reason  what  is  good 
and  profitable,  falling  back  again  to  the  Gods  as  the  princi- 
pie  of  all  our  actions,  she  seems  to  despise  reason,  and  dis¬ 
grace  that  demonstration  which  is  her  peculiar  glory  ;  and 
she  relies  on  dreams  and  visions,  in  which  the  worst  of 
men  are  oftentimes  as  happy  as  the  best.  And  therefore 
your  Socrates,  Simmias,  in  my  opinion  followed  the  most 
philosophical  and  rational  method  of  instructions,  choosing 
that  plain  and  easy  way  as  the  most  genteel  and  friendly 
unto  truth,  and  scattering  to  the  sophisters  of  the  age  all 
those  vain  pretences  which  are  as  it  were  the  smoke  of 
philosophy.  And  Theocritus  taking  him  up  said  :  What, 


132 


A  DISCOURSE  CONCERNING 


Galaxidorus,  and  hath  Meletus  persuaded  you  that  Socrates 
contemned  all  divine  things  ]  —  for  that  was  part  of  his 
accusation.  Divine  things  !  by  no' means,  replied  Galaxi¬ 
dorus  ;  but  having  received  philosophy  from  Pythagoras 
and  Empedocles,  full  of  dreams,  fables,  superstitions,  and 
perfect  raving,  he  endeavored  to  bring  wisdom  and  things 
together,  and  make  truth  consist  with  sober  sense. 

10.  Be  it  so,  rejoined  Theocritus,  but  what  shall  we 
think  of  his  Daemon  1  Was  it  a  mere  juggle  ?  Indeed, 
nothing  that  is  told  of  Pythagoras  regarding  divination 
seems  to  me  so  great  and  divine.  For,  in  my  mind,  as 
Homer  makes  Minerva  to  stand  by  Ulysses  in  all  dangers, 
so  the  Daemon  joined  to  Socrates  even  from  his  cradle 
some  vision  to  guide  him  in  all  the  actions  of  his  life  ; 
which  going  before  him,  shed  a  light  upon  hidden  and 
obscure  matters  and  such  as  coidd  not  be  discovered  by 
unassisted  human  understanding  ;  of  such  things  the  Dae 
mon  often  discoursed  with  him,  presiding  over  and  by 
divine  instinct  directing  his  intentions.  More  and  greater 
things  perhaps  you  may  learn  from  Simmias  and  other 
companions  of  Socrates  ;  but  once  when  I  was  present,  as 
I  went  to  Euthyphron  the  soothsayer’s,  it  happened,  Sim¬ 
mias,  —  for  you  remember  it,  —  that  Socrates  walked  up 
to  Symbolum  and  the  house  of  Andocides,  all  the  way  ask¬ 
ing  questions  and  jocosely  perplexing  Euthyphron.  When 
standing  still  upon  a  sudden  and  persuading  us  to  do  the 
like,  he  mused  a  pretty  while,  and  then  turning  about 
walked  through  Trunk-makers’  Street,  calling  back  his 
friends  that  walked  before  him,  affirming  that  it  was  his 
Daemon’s  will  and  admonition.  Many  turned  back,  amongst 
whom  I,  holding  Euthyphron,  was  one ;  but  some  of  the 
youths  keeping  on  the  straight  way,  on  purpose  (as  it  were] 
to  confute  Socrates’s  Daemon,  took  along  with  them  Char- 
illus  the  piper,  who  came  in  my  company  to  Athens  to  see 
Cebes.  Now  as  they  were  walking  through  Gravers’  Row, 


SOCRATES’S  DAEMON. 


133 


near  the  court-houses,  a  herd  of  dirty  swine  met  them  ; 
and  being  too  many  for  the  street  and  running  against  one 
another,  they  overthrew  some  that  could  not  get  out  of  the 
way,  and  dirted  others  ;  and  Charillus  came  home  with  his 
legs  and  clothes  very  dirty ;  so  that  now  and  then  in  mer¬ 
riment  they  would  think  on  Socrates’s  Daemon,  wondering 
that  it  never  forsook  the  man,  and  that  Heaven  took  such 
particular  care  of  him. 

11.  Then  Galaxidorus :  And  do  you  think,  Theocritus, 
that  Socrates’s  Daemon  had  some  peculiar  and  extraordi¬ 
nary  power  ?  And  was  it  not  that  this  man  had  by  experi¬ 
ence  confirmed  some  part  of  the  common  necessity  which 
made  him,  in  all  obscure  and  inevident  matters,  add  some 
weight  to  the  reason  that  was  on  one  side  ?  For  as  one 
grain  doth  not  incline  the  balance  by  itself,  yet  added  to 
one  of  two  weights  that  are  of  equal  poise,  makes  the 
whole  incline  to  that  part ;  thus  an  omen  or  the  like  sign 
may  of  itself  be  too  light  to  draw  a  grave  and  settled  reso¬ 
lution  to  any  action,  yet  when  two  equal  reasons  draw  on 
either  side,  if  that  is  added  to  one,  the  doubt  together  with 
the  equality  is  taken  off,  so  that  a  motion  and  inclination 
to  that  side  is  presently  produced.  Then  my  father  continu¬ 
ing  the  discourse  said :  You  yourself,  Galaxidorus,  have  heard 
a  Megarian,  who  had  it  from  Terpsion,  say  that  Socrates’s 
Daemon  was  nothing  else  but  the  sneezing  either  of  him¬ 
self  or  others  ;  for  if  another  sneezed,  either  before,  behind 
him,  or  on  his  right  hand,  then  he  pursued  his  design  and 
went  on  to  action  ;  but  if  on  the  left  hand,  he  desisted. 
One  sort  of  sneezing  confirmed  him  whilst  deliberating 
and  not  fully  resolved ;  another  stopped  him  when  al¬ 
ready  upon  action.  But  indeed  it  seems  strange  that,  if 
sneezing  was  his  only  sign,  he  should  not  acquaint  his  fam¬ 
iliars  with  it,  but  pretend  that  it  was  a  Daemon  that  en¬ 
couraged  or  forbade  him.  For  that  this  should  proceed 
from  vanity  or  conceit  is  not  agreeable  to  the  veracity  and 


134 


A  DISCOURSE  CONCERNING 


simplicity  of  the  man ;  for  in  those  we  knew  him  to  he 
truly  great,  and  far  above  the  generality  of  mankind.  Nor 
is  it  likely  so  grave  and  wise  a  man  should  be  disturbed  at 
a  casual  sound  or  sneezing,  and  upon  that  account  leave 
off  what  he  was  about,  and  give  over  his  premeditated  res¬ 
olutions.  Besides  all,  Socrates’s  resolution  seems  to  be 
altogether  vigorous  and  steady,  as  begun  upon  right  princi¬ 
ples  and  mature  judgment.  Thus  he  voluntarily  lived  poor 
all  his  life,  though  he  had  friends  that  would  have  been 
very  glad  and  very  willing  to  relieve  him ;  he  still  kept 
close  to  philosophy,  notwithstanding  all  the  discourage¬ 
ments  he  met  with ;  and  at  last,  when  his  friends  endeav¬ 
ored  and  very  ingeniously  contrived  his  escape,  he  would 
not  yield  to  their  entreaties,  but  met  death  with  mirth  and 
cheerfulness,  and  appeared  a  man  of  a  steady  reason  in  the 
greatest  extremity.  And  sure  these  are  not  the  actions  of 
a  man  whose  designs,  when  once  fixed,  could  be  altered  by 
an  omen  or  a  sneeze ;  but  of  one  who,  by  some  more  con¬ 
siderable  guidance  and  impulse,  is  directed  to  practise 
things  good  and  excellent.  ^  Besides,  I  have  heard  that  to 
some  of  his  friends  he  foretold  the  overthrow  of  the 
Athenians  in  Sicily.  And  before  that  time,  Perilampes 
the  son  of  Antiphon,  being  wounded  and  taken  prisoner  by 
us  in  that  pursuit  at  Delium,  as  soon  as  he  heard  from  the 
ambassadors  who  came  from  Athens  that  Socrates  with 
Alcibiades  and  Laches  fled  by  Rhegiste  and  returned  safe, 
blamed  himself  very  much,  and  blamed  also  some  of  his 
friends  and  captains  of  the  companies  —  who  together 
with  him  were  overtaken  in  their  flight  about  Fames  by 
our  cavalry  and  slain  there  —  for  not  obeying  Socrates’s 
Daemon  and  retreating  that  way  which  he  led.  And  this 
I  believe  Simmias  hath  heard  as  well  as  I.  Yes,  replied 
Simmias,  many  times,  and  from  many  persons  ;  for  upon 
this,  Socrates’s  Daemon  was  very  much  talked  of  at 
Athens. 


SOCRATES’S  DAEMON. 


135 


12.  Why  then,  pray,  Simmias,  said  Phidolaus,  shall  we 
suffer  Galaxidorus  droUingly  to  degrade  so  considerable 
a  prophetic  spirit  into  an  omen  or  a  sneeze ;  which  the 
vulgar  and  ignorant,  it  is  true,  merrily  use  about  small 
matters ;  but  when  any  danger  appears,  then  w^e  find  that 
of  Euripides  verified, — 

None  near  the  edge  of  swords  will  mind  such  toys.* 

To  this  Galaxidorus  rejoined :  Sir,  if  Simmias  hath 
heard  Socrates  himself  speak  any  thing  about  this  matter, 
I  am  very  ready  to  hear  and  believe  it  with  you  ;  but  yet 
what  you  and  Polymnis  have  delivered  I  could  easily 
demonstrate  to  be  weak  and  insignificant.  For  as  in 
physic  the  pulse  or  a  whelk  is  itself  but  a  small  thing, 
yet  is  a  sign  of  no  small  things  to  the  physicians ;  and  as 
the  murmuring  of  the  waves  or  of  a  bird,  or  the  driving 
of  a  thin  cloud,  is  a  sign  to  the  pilot  of  a  stormy  heaven 
and  troubled  sea ;  thus  to  a  prophetic  soul,  a  sneeze  or  an 
omen,  though  no  great  matter  simply  considered  in  itself, 
yet  may  be  the  sign  and  token  of  considerable  impending 
accidents.  For  every  art  and  science  takes  care  to  collect 
many  things  from  few,  and  great  from  small.  And  as  if 
one  that  doth  not  know  the  power  of  letters,  when  he 
sees  a  few  ill-shapen  strokes,  should  not  believe  that  a 

man  skilled  in  letters  could  read  in  them  the  famous 

*  • 

battles  of  the  ancients,  the  rise  of  cities,  the  acts  and 
calamities  of  kings,  and  should  assert  that  some  divine 
power  told  him  the  particulars,  he  would  by  this  igno¬ 
rance  of  his  raise  a  great  deal  of  mirth  and  laughter  in 
the  company ;  so  let  us  consider  whether  or  no  Ave  our¬ 
selves,  being  altogether  ignorant  of  every  one’s  poAver 
of  divination  by  Avhich  he  guessoth  at  Avhat  is  to  come, 
are  not  foolishly  concerned  Avhen  it  is  asserted  that  a  Avise 
man  by  that  discovers  some  things  obscure  and  inevident 


♦  From  the  Autolycus,  a  lost  Satyrdrama  of  Euripides,  Frag.  284,  vs.  22.  (G.) 


136 


A  DISCOURSE  CONCERNING 


in  themselves,  and  moreover  himself  declares  that  it  is  not 
a  sneeze  or  voice,  but  a  Daemon,  that  leads  him  on  to 
action.  This,  Polymnis,  particularly  respects  you,  who 
cannot  but  wonder  that  Socrates,  who  by  his  meekness 
and  humility  hath  humanized  philosophy,  should  not  call 
this  sign  a  sneeze  or  a  voice,  but  very  pretendingly  a 
Daemon ;  when,  on  the  contrary,  I  should  have  wondered 
if  a  man  so  critical  and  exact  in  discourse,  and  so  good  at 
names  as  Socrates,  should  have  said  that  it  was  a  sneeze, 
and  not  a  Daemon,  that  gave  him  intimation ;  as  much  as 
if  any  one  should  say  that  he  is  wounded  by  a  dart,  and 
not  with  a  dart  by  him  that  threw  it ;  or  as  if  any  one 
should  say  that  a  weight  was  weighed  by  the  balance, 
and  not 'with  the  balance  by  the  one  who  holds  it.  For 
any  effect  is  not  the  effect  of  the  instrument,  but  of  him 
whose  the  instrument  is,  and  who  useth  it  to  that  effect ; 
and  a  sign  is  an  instrument,  which  he  that  signifies  any 
thing  thereby  useth  to  that  effect.  But,  as  I  said  before, 
if  Simmias  hath  any  thing  about  this  matter,  let  us  quietly 
attend  ;  for  no  doubt  he  must  have  a  more  perfect  knowl¬ 
edge  of  the  thing. 

13.  Content,  said  Theocritus  ;  but  let  us  first  see  who 
these  are  that  are  coming,  for  I  think  I  see  Epaminon- 
das  bringing  in  the  stranger.  Upon  this  motion,  looking 
toward  Hhe  door,  we  saw  Epaminondas  with  his  friends 
Ismenidorus  and  Bacchylidas  and  Melissus  the  musician 
leadmg  the  way,  and  the  stranger  following,  a  man  of  no 
mean  presence ;  his  meekness  and  good-nature  appeared 
in  his  looks,  and  his  dress  was  grave  and  becoming.  He 
being  seated  next  Simmias,  my  brother  next  me,  and  the 
rest  as  they  pleased,  and  all  silent,  Simmias  speaking  to 
my  brother  said:  Well,  Epaminondas,  by  what  name  and 
title  must  I  salute  this  stranger  ?  —  for  those  are  commonly 
our  first  compliments,  and  the  beginning  of  our  better 
acquaintance.  And  my  brother  replied  :  His  name,  Sim- 


SOCRATES’S  DAEMON. 


137 


mias,  is  Theanor ;  by  birth  he  is  a  Crotonian,  a  philoso¬ 
pher  by  profession,  no  disgrace  to  Pythagoras’s  fame  ;  for 
he  hath  taken  a  long  voyage  from  Italy  hither,  to  evi¬ 
dence  by  generous  actions  his  eminent  proficiency  in  that 
school. 

The  stranger  subjoined :  But  you,  Epaminondas,  hinder 
the  performance  of  the  best  action  ;  for  if  it  is  commend-, 
able  to  oblige  friends,  it  is  not  discommendable  to  be 
obliged ;  for  a  benefit  requires  a  receiver  as  well  as  a 
giver;  by  both  it  is  perfected,  and  becomes  a  good  work. 
For  he  that  refuseth  to  receive  a  favor,  as  a  ball  that  is 
struck  fairly  to  him,  disgraceth  it  by  letting  it  fall  short  of 
the  designed  mark ;  and  what  mark  are  we  so  much 
pleased  to  hit  or  vexed  to  miss,  as  om  kind  intentions 
of  obliging  a  person  that  deserves  a  favor]  It  is  true, 
when  the  mark  is  fixed,  he  that  misseth  can  blame  nobody 
but  himself ;  but  he  that  refuseth  or  flies-  a  kindness  is 
injurious  to  the  favor  in  not  letting  it  attain  the  desired 
end.  I  have  told  you  already  what  was  the  occasion  of 
my  voyage ;  the  same  I  would  discover  to  all  present,  and 
make  them  judges  in  the  case.  For  after  the  opposite 
faction  had  expelled  the  Pythagoreans,  and  the  Cylonians 
had  burned  the  remains  of  that  society  in  their  school  at 
Metapontum,  and  destroyed  all  but  Philolaus  and  Lysis,  — 
who  being  young  and  nimble  escaped  the  flame,  —  Philo¬ 
laus  flying  to  the  Lucanians  was  there  protected  by  his 
friends,  who  rose  for  his  defence  and  overpowered  the 
Cylonians ;  but  where  Lysis  was,  for  a  long  time  nobody 
could  tell ;  at  last  Gorgias  the  Leontine,  sailing  from 
Greece  to  Italy,  seriously  told  Arcesus  that  he  met  and 
discoursed  Lysis  at  Thebes.  Arcesus,  being  very  desirous 
to  see  the  man,  as  soon  as  he  could  get  a  passage,  designed 
to  put  to  sea  himself ;  but  age  and  weakness  coming  on, 
he  took  care  that  Lysis  should  be  brought  to  Italy  alive,  if 
possible  ;  but  if  not,  the  relics  of  his  body.  The  inter 


138 


A  DISCOURSE  CONCERNING 


veiling  wars,  usurpations,  and  seditions  hindered  his  friends 
from  doing  it  whilst  he  lived ;  but  since  his  death.  Lysis’s 
Daemon  hath  made  very  frequent  and  very  plain  discov¬ 
eries  to  us  of  his  death ;  and  many  that  were  very  well 
acquainted  with  the  matter  have  told  us  how  courteously 
you  received  and  civilly  entertained  him,  how  in  your  poor 
family  he  was  allowed  a  plentiful  subsistence  for  his  age, 
counted  a  father  of  your  sons,  and  died  in  peace.  I  there¬ 
fore,  although  a  young  man  and  but  one  single  person, 
have  been  sent  by  many  who  are  my  elders,  and  who, 
having  store  of  money,  otfer  it  gladly  to  you  who  need  it, 
in  return  for  the  gracious  friendship  bestowed  upon  Lysis. 
Lysis,  it  is  true,  is  buried  nobly,  and  your  respect,  which 
is  more  honorable  than  a  monument,  must  be  acknowl¬ 
edged  and  requited  by  his  familiars  and  his  friends. 

14.  When  the  stranger  had  said  this,  my  father  wept  a 
considerable  time,  in  memory  of  Lysis ;  but  my  brother, 
smiling  upon  me,  as  he  used  to  do,  said :  What  do  we  do, 
Caphisias  ]  Are  we  to  give  up  our  poverty  to  wealth,  and  yet 
be  silent?  By  no  means,  I  replied,  let  us  part  with  our 
old  friend  and  the  excellent  breeder  of  our  youth ;  but  * 
defend  her  cause,  for  you  are  to  manage  it.  My  dear 
father,  said  he,  I  have  never  feared  that  wealth  would 
take  possession  of  our  house,  except  on  account  of  Caphi- 
sias’s  body ;  for  that  waiits  fine  attire,  that  he  may  appear 
gay  and  gaudy  to  his  numerous  company  of  lovers,  and 
great  supplies  of  food,  that  he  may  be  strong  to  endure 
wrestling  and  other  exercises  of  the  ring.  But  since  he 
doth  not  give  up  poverty,  since  he  holds  fast  his  hereditary 
want,  like  a  color,  since  he,  a  youth,  prides  himself  in 
frugality,  and  is  very  well  content  with  his  present  state, 
what  need  have  we,  and  what  shall  we  do  with  wealth  ? 
Shall  we  gild  our  arms  ?  Shall  we,  like  Nicias  the  Athe¬ 
nian,  adorn  our  shield  with  gold,  purple,  and  other  gaudy 
variety  of  colors,  and  buy  for  you,  sir,  a  Milesian  cloak, 


SOCRATES’S  DAEMON. 


139 


and  for  my  mother  a  purple  gownl  For  I  suppose  we 
shall  not  consume  any  upon  our  belly,  or  feast  more  sump- ' 
tuously  than  we  did  before,  treating  this  wealth  as  a  guest 
of  quality  and  honor !  Away,  away,  son,  replied  my  father  ; 
let  me  never  see  such  a  change  in  our  course  of  living. 
Well,  said  my  brother,  we  would  not  lie  lazily  at  home, 
and  watch  over  our  unemployed  riches ;  for  then  the 
bes tower’s  kindness  would  be  a  trouble,  and  the  possession 
infamous.  What  need  then,  said  my  father,  have  we  of 
wealth]  Upon  this  account,  said  Epaminondas,  when 
Jason,  the  Thessalian  general,  lately  sent  me  a  great 
sum  of  money  and  desired  me  to  accept  it,  I  was  thought 
rude  and  unmannerly  for  telling  him  that  he  was  a  knave 
for  endeavoring,  whilst  he  himself  loved  monarchy,  to 
bribe  one  of  democratical  principles  and  a  member  of 
a  free  state.  Your  good  will,  sir  (addressing  the  stranger), 
which  is  generous  and  worthy  a  philosopher,  I  accept  and 
passionately  admire ;  but  you  offer  physic  to  your  friends 
who  are  in  perfect  health !  If,  upon  a  report  that  we 
were  distressed  and  overpowered,  you  had  brought  men ' 
and  arms  to  our  assistance,  but  being  arrived  had  found 
all  in  quietness  and  peace,  I  am  certain  you  would  not 
have  thought  it  necessary  to  leave  those  supplies  which 
we  did  not  then  stand  in  need  of.  Thus,  since  now  you 
came  to  assist  us  against  poverty  as  if  we  had  been  dis¬ 
tressed  by  it,  and  find  it  very  peaceable  and  our  familiar 
inmate,  there  is  no  need  to  leave  any  money  or  arms  to 
suppress  that  which  gives  us  no  trouble  or  disturbance. 
But  tell  your  acquaintance  that  they  use  riches  well,«and 
have  friends  here  that  use  poverty  as  well.  What  was 
spent  in  keeping  and  burying  Lysis,  Lysis  himself  hath 
sufficiently  repaid,  by  many  profitable  instructions,  and  by 
teaching  us  not  to  think  poverty  a  grievance. 

15.  What  then,  said  ThecWor,  is  it  mean  to  think  pov¬ 
erty  a  grievance  ]  Is  it  not  absui’d  to  fly  and  be  afraid  of 


140 


A  DISCOURSE  CONCERNING 


riches,  if  no  reason,  but  an  hypocritical  pretence,  narrow¬ 
ness  of  mind,  or  pride,  prompts  one  to  reject  the  offer? 
And  what  reason,  I  wonder,  would  refuse  such  advan¬ 
tageous  and  creditable  enjoyments  as  Epaminondas  now 
doth  ?  But,  sir,  —  for  your  answer  to  the  Thessalian  about 
this  matter  shows  you  very  ready,  —  pray  answer  me,  do 
you  think  it  commendable  in  some  cases  to  give  money, 
but  always  unlawful  to  receive  it  ?  Or  are  the  givers  and 
receivers  equally  guilty  of  a  fault?  By  no  means,  replied 
Epaminondas ;  but,  as  of  any  thing  else,  so  the  giving  and 
receiving  of  money  is  sometimes  commendable  and  some¬ 
times  base.  Well  then,  said  Theanor,  if  a  man  gives 
willingly  what  he  ought  to  give,  is  not  that  action  com¬ 
mendable  in  him?  Yes.  And  when  it  is  commendable 
in  one  to  give,  is  it  not  as  commendable  in  another  to 
receive  ?  Or  can  a  man  more  honestly  accept  a  gift  from 
any  one,  than  from  him  that  honestly  bestows  ?  No.  Well 
then,  Epaminondas,  suppose  of  two  friends,  one  hath  a 
mind  to  present,  the  other  must  accept.  It  is  true,  in  a 
'  battle  we  should  avoid  that  enemy  who  is  skilful  in  hurling 
his  weapon ;  but  in  civilities  we  should  neither  fly  nor 
thrust  back  that  friend  that  makes  a  kind  and  genteel 
offer.  And  though  poverty  is  not  so  grievous,  yet  on  the 
other  side,  wealth  is  not  so-  mean  and  despicable  a  thing. 
Very  true,  replied  Epaminondas  ;  but  you  must  consider 
that  sometimes,  even  when  a  gift  is  honestly  bestowed,  he 
is  more  commendable  who  refuses  it.  For  we  have  many 
lusts  and  desires,  and  the  objects  of  those  desires  are  many. 
Some  are  called  natural ;  these  proceed  from  the  very  con¬ 
stitution  of  our  body,  and  tend  to  natural  pleasures  ;  others 
are  acquired,  and  rise  from  vain  opinions  and  mistaken 
notions ;  yet  these  by  the  length  of  time,  ill  habits,  and 
bad  education  are  usually  improved,  get  strength,  and 
debase  the  soul  more  than  the  other  natural  and  necessary 
passions.  By  custom  and  care  any  one,  with  the  assistance 


SOCRATES’S  DAEMON. 


141 


of  reason,  may  free  himself  from  many  of  his  natural 
desires.  But,  sir,  all  our  arts,  all  our  force  of  discipline, 
must  be  employed  against  the  superfluous  and  acquired 
appetites ;  and  they  must  be  restrained  or  cut  off  by  the 
guidance  or  edge  of  reason.  For  if  the  contrary  appli¬ 
cations  of  reason  can  make  us  forbear  meat  and  drink, 
when  hungry  or  thirsty,  how  much  more  easy  is  it  to 
conquer  covetousness  or  ambition,  which  will  be  destroyed 
by  a  bare  restraint  from  their  proper  objects,  and  a  non¬ 
attainment  of  their  desired  end?  And  pray,  sir,  are  you 
not  of  the  same  opinion  ?  Yes,  replied  the  stranger.  Then, 
sir,  continued  Epaminondas,  do  you  not  perceive  a  differ¬ 
ence  between  the  exercise  itself  and  the  work  to  which 
the  exercise  relates?  For  instance,  in  a  wrestler,  the 
work  is  the  striving  with  his  adversary  for  the  crown,  the 
exercise  is  the  preparation  of  his  body  by  diet,  wrestling, 
or  the  like.  So  in  virtue,  you  must  confess  the  work  to 
be  one  thing  and  the  exercise  another.  Very  well,  replied 
the  stranger.  Then,  continued  Epaminondas,  let  us  first 
examine  whether  to  abstain  from  the  base  unlawful  pleas¬ 
ures  is  the  exercise  of  continence,  or  the  work  and  evi¬ 
dence  of  that  exercise  ?  The  work  and  evidence,  replied 
the  stranger.  But  is  not  the  exercise  of  it  such  as  you 
practise,  when  after  wrestling,  where  you  have  raised  your 
appetites  like  ravenous  beasts,  you  stand  a  long  while  at  a 
table  covered  with  plenty  and  variety  of  meats,  and  then 
give  it  to  your  servants  to  feast  on,  whilst  you  offer  mean 
and  spare  diet  to  your  subdued  appetites?  For  abstinence 
from  lawful  pleasure  is  exercise  against  unlawful.  Very 
well,  replied  the  stranger.  So,  continued  Epaminondas, 
justice  is  exercise  against  covetousness  and  love  of  money  ; 
but  so  is  not  a  mere  cessation  from  stealing  or  robbing 
our  neighbor.  So  he  that  doth  not  betray  his  country  or 
friends  for  gold  doth  not  exercise  against  covetousness, 
for  the  law  perhaps  deters,  and  fear  restrains  him  ;  but  he 


142 


A  DISCOURSE  CONCERNING 


that  refiiseth,  just  gain  and  such  as  the  law  allows,  volun¬ 
tarily  exercises,  and  secures  himself  from  being  bribed  or 
receiving  any  unlawful  present.  For  when  great,  hurtful, 
and  base  pleasures  are  proposed,  it  is  very  hard  for  any 
one  to  contain  himself,  who  hath  not  often  despised  those 
which  he  had  power  and  opportunity  to  enjoy.  Thus, 
when  base  bribes  and  considerable  advantages  are  offered, 
it  will  be  difficult  to  refuse,  unless  he  hath  long  ago  rooted 
out  all  thoughts  of  gain  and  love  of  money ;  for  other 
desires  will  nourish  and  increase  that  appetite,  and  he  will 
easily  be  drawn  to  any  unjust  action  who  can  scarce  for¬ 
bear  reaching  out  his  hand  to  a  proffered  present.  But 
he  that  will  not  lay  himself  open  to  the  favors  of  friends 
and  the  gifts  of  kings,  but  refuseth  even  what  Fortune  prof¬ 
fers,  and  keeps  off  his  appetite,  that  is  eager  after  and  (as 
it  were)  leaps  forward  to  an  appearing  treasure,  is  never 
disturbed  or  tempted  to  unlawful  actions,  but  hath  great 
and  brave  thoughts,  and  hath  command  over  himself,  being 
conscious  of  none  but  generous  designs.  1  and  Caphisias, 
dear  Simmias,  being  passionate  admirers  of  such  men,  beg 
the  stranger  to  suffer  us  to  be  taught  and  exercised  by 
poverty  to  attain  that  height  of  virtue  and  perfection. 

16.  My  brother  having  finished  this  discourse,  Simmias, 
nodding  twice  or  thrice,  said:  Epaminondas  is  a  great 
man,  but  this  Polymnis  is  the  cause  of  his  greatness,  who 
gave  his  children  the  best  education,  and  bred  them  phi¬ 
losophers.  But,  sir,  you  may  end  this  dispute  at  leisure 
among  yourselves.  As  for  Lysis  (if  it  is  lawful  to  discover 
it),  pray,  sir,  do  you  design  to  take  him  out  of  his  tomb 
and  transport  him  into  Italy,  or  leave  him  here  amongst 
his  friends  and  acquaintance,  who  shall  be  glad  to  lie  by 
him  in  the  grave  1  And  Theanor  with  a  smile  answered  : 
Lysis,  good  Simmias,  no  doubt  is  very  well  pleased  with 
the  place,  for  Epaminondas  supplied  him  with  all  things 
necessary  and  fitting.  But  the  Pythagoreans  have  .some 


SOCRATES’S  DAEMON. 


143 


particular  funeral  ceremonies,  which  if  any  one  wants, 
we  conclude  he  did  not  make  a  .proper  and  happy  exit. 
Therefore,  as  soon  as  we  learned  from  some  dreams  that 
Lysis  was  dead  (for  we  have  certain  marks  to  know  the 
apparitions  of  the  living  from  images  of  the  dead),  most 
began  to  think  that  Lysis,  dying  in  a  strange  country,  was 
not  interred  with  the  due  ceremonies,  and  therefore  ought 
to  be  removed  to  Italy  that  he  might  receive  them  there. 
I  coming  upon  this  design,  and  being  by  the  people  of 
the  country  directed  to  the  tomb,  in  the  evening  poured 
out  my  oblations,  and  called  upon  the  soul  of  Lysis  to 
come  out  and  direct  me  in  this  affair.  The  night  draw¬ 
ing  on,  I  saw  nothing  indeed,  but  thought  I  heard  a  voice 
saying :  Move  not  those  relics  that  ought  not  to  be  moved, 
for  Lysis’s  body  was  duly  and  religiously  interred  ;  and  his 
soul  is  sent  to  inform  another  body,  and  committed  to  the 
care  of  another  Daemon.  And  early  this  morning,  asking 
Epaminondas  about  the  manner  of  Lysis’s  burial,  I  found 
that  Lysis  had  taught  him  as  far  as  the  incommunicable 
mysteries  of  our  sect ;  and  that  the  same  Daemon  that 
w^aited  on  Lysis  presided  over  him,  if  I  can  guess  at  the 
pilot  from  the  sailing  of  the  ship.  The  paths  of  life  are 
large,  but  in  few  are  men  directed  by  the  Daemons. 
When  Theanor  had  said  this,  he  looked  attentively  on 
Epaminondas,  as  if  he  designed  a  fresh  search  into  his 
nature  and  inclinations. 

17.  At  the  same  instant  the  chirurgeon  coming  in  un 
bound  Simmias’s  leg  and  prepared  to  dress  it ;  and  Phyl- 
lidas  entering  with  Hipposthenides,  extremely  concerned, 
as  his  very  countenance  discovered,  desired  me,  Charon, 
and  Theocritus  to  withdraw  into  a  private  corner  of  the 
porch.  And  I  asking,  Phyllidas,  hath  any  new  thing  hap¬ 
pened  ?  —  Nothing  new  to  me,  he  replied,  for  I  knew  and 
told  you  that  Hipposthenides  was  a  coward,  and  there¬ 
fore  begged  you  not  to  communicate  the  matter  to  him  or 


V 


144  A  DISCOURSE  CONCERNING 

make  him  an  associate.  We  seeming  all  surprised,  Hip- 
posthenides  cried  out:  For  Heaven’s  sake,  Phyllidas,  don’t 
say  so,  don’t  think  rashness  to  be  bravery,  and  blinded  by 
that  mistake  ruin  both  us  and  the  commonwealth ;  but,  if 
it  must  be  so,  let  the  exiles  return  again  in  peace.  And 
Phyllidas  in  a  passion  replied.  How  many,  Hipposthe- 
nides,  do  you  think  are  privy  to  this  design?  Thirty  I 
know  engaged.  And  why  then,  continued  Phyllidas, 
would  you  singly  oppose  your  judgment  to  them  all,  and 
ruin  those  measures  they  have  all  taken  and  agreed  to  ? 
What  had  you  to  do  to  send  a  messenger  to  desire  them 
to  return  and  not  approach  to-day,  when  even  chance 
encouraged  and  all  things  conspired  to  promote  the 
design  ? 

These  words  of  Phyllidas  troubled  every  one ;  and  Cha¬ 
ron,  looking  very  angrily  upon  Hipposthenides,  said : 
Thou  coward  !  what  hast  thou  done  ?  No  harm,  replied 
Hipposthenides,  as  I  will  make  appear  if  you  will  mod¬ 
erate  your  passion  and  hear  what  your  gray-headed  equal 
can  allege.  If,  Phyllidas,  we  were  minded  to  show  our 
citizens  a  bravery  that  sought  danger,  and  a  heart  that 
contemned  life,  there  is  day  enough  before  us  ;  why  should 
we  wait  till  the  evening?  Let  us  take  our  swords  pres¬ 
ently,  and  assault  the  tyrants.  Let  us  kill,  let  us  be 
killed,  and  be  prodigal  of  our  blood.  If  this  may  be 
easily  performed  or  endured,  and  if  it  is  no  easy  matter 
by  the  loss  of  two  or  three  men  to  free  Thebes  from  so 
great  an  armed  power  as  possesses  it,  and  to  beat  out  the 
Spartan  garrison,  —  for  I  suppose  Phyllidas  hath  not  pro¬ 
vided  wine  enough  at  his  entertainment  to  make  all  Ar- 
chias’s  guard  of  fifteen  hundred  men  drunk  ;  or  if  we 
despatch  him,  yet  Arcesus  and  Herippidas  will  be  sober, 
and  upon  the  watch,  —  why  are  we  so  eager  to  bring  our 
friends  and  families  into  certain  destruction,  especially 
smce  the  enemy  hath  some  notice  of  their  return?  For 


SOCRATES’S  DAEMON. 


145 


why  else  should  the  Thespians  for  these  three  days  be 
commanded  to  be  in  arms  and  follow  the  orders  of  the 
Spartan  general”?  And  I  hear  that  to-day,  after  examina¬ 
tion  before  Archias  when  he  returns,  they  design  to  put 
Amphithens  to  death;  and  are  not  these  strong  proofs 
that  our  conspiracy  is  discovered  ?  Is  it  not  the  best  way 
to  stay  a  little,  until  an  atonement  is  made  and  the  Gods 
reconciled?  For  the  diviners,  having  sacrificed  an  ox  to 
Ceres,  said  that  the  burnt  offering  portended  a  great  se¬ 
dition  and  danger  to  the  commonwealth.  And  besides, 
Charon,  there  is  another  thing  which  particularly  concerns 
you ;  for  yesterday  Hypatodorus,  the  son  of  Erianthes,  a 
very  honest  man  and  my  good  acquaintance,  but  altogether 
ignorant  of  our  design,  coming  out  of  the  country  in  my 
company,  accosted  me  thus  :  Charon  is  an  acquaintance 
of  yours,  Hipposthenides,  but  no  great  crony  of  mine ; 
yet,  if  you  please,  advise  him  to  take  heed  of  some  immi¬ 
nent  danger,  for  I  had  a  very  odd  dream  relating  to  some 
such  matter.  Last  night  methought  I  saw  his  house  in 
travail ;  and  he  and  his  friends,  extremely  perplexed,  fell 
to  their  prayers  round  about  the  house.  The  house 
groaned,  and  sent  out  some  inarticulate  sounds ;  at  last  a 
raging  fire  broke  out  of  it,  and  consumed  the  greatest  part 
of  the  city ;  and  the  castle  Cadmea  was  covered  all  over 
with  smoke,  but  not  fired.  This  was  the  dream,  Charon, 
that  he  told  me.  I.  was  startled  at  the  present,  and  that 
fear  increased  when  I  heard  that  the  exiles  intended  to 
'come  to-day  to  your  house,  and  I  am  very  much  afraid 
that  we  shall  bring  mighty  mischiefs  on  ourselves,  yet  do 
our  enemies  no  proportionable  harm,  but  only  give  them 
a  little  disturbance ;  for  I  think  the  city  signifies  us,  and 
the  castle  (as  it  is  now  in  their  power)  them. 

18.  Then  Theocritus  putting  in,  and  enjoining  silence 
on  Charon,  who  was  eager  to  reply,  said  :  As  for  my  part, 
Hipposthenides,  though  all  my  sacrifices  were  of  good 


146 


A  DISCOURSE  CONCERNING. 


omen  to  the  exiles,  yet  I  never  found  any  greater  induce¬ 
ment  to  go  on  than  the  dream  you  mentioned  ;  for  you  say 
that  a  great  and  bright  fire,  rising  out  of  a  friend’s  house, 
caught  the  city,  and  that  the  habitation  of  the  enemies 
was  blackened  with  smoke,  which  never  brings  any  thing 
better  than  tears  and  disturbance  ;  that  inarticulate  sounds 
broke  out  from  us  shows  that  none  shall  make  anv  clear 
and  full  discovery ;  only  a  blind  suspicion  shall  arise,  and 
our  design  shall  appear  and  have  its  desired  effect  at  the 
same  time.  And  it  is  very  natural  that  the  diviners  should 
find  the  sacrifices  ill-omened  ;  for  both  their  office  and 
their  victims  belong  not  to  the  public,  but  to  the  men  in 
power.  Whilst  Theocritus  was  speaking,  I  said  to  Hip 
posthenides.  Whom  did  you  send  with  this  message!  for 
if  it  was  not  long  ago,  we  will  follow  him.  Indeed,  Ca- 
phisias,  he  replied,  it  is  unlikely  (for  I  must  tell  the  truth) 
that  you  should  overtake  him,  for  he  is  upon  the  best 
horse  in  Thebes.  You  all  know  the  man,  he  is  master  of 
the  horse  to  Melon,  and  Melon  from  the  very  beginning 
hath  made  him  privy  to  the  design.  And  I,  observing 
him  to  be  at  the  door,  said :  What,  Hipposthenides,  is 
it  Clido,  he  that  last  year  at  Juno’s  feast  won  the  single 
horse-race !  Yes,  the  very  same.  W^ho  then,  continued 
I,  is  he  that  hath  stood  a  pretty  while  at  the  court-gate 
and  gazed  upon  us!  At  this  Hipposthenides  turning 
about  cried  out :  Clido,  by  Hercules !  I’ll  lay  my  life  some 
unlucky  accident  hath  happened.  Clido,  observing  that 
we  took  notice  of  him,  came  softly  from  the  gate  towards 
us ;  and  Hipposthenides  giving  him  a  nod  and  bidding 
him  deliver  his  message  to  the  company,  for  they  were  all 
sure  friends  and  privy  to  the  whole  plot,  he  began  :  Sir, 
I  know  the  men  very  well,  and  not  finding  you  either  at 
home  or  in  the  market-place,  I  guessed  you  were  with 
them,  and  came  directly  hither  to  give  you  a  full  account 
of  the  present  posture  of  affairs.  You  commanded  me 


SOCRATES’S  DAEMON. 


147 


with  all  possible  speed  to  meet  the  exiles  upon  the  moun¬ 
tain,  and  accordingly  I  went  home  to  take  horse,  and 
called  for  my  bridle ;  my  wife  said  it  was  mislaid,  and 
stayed  a  long  time  in  the  hostry,  tumbling  about  the  things 
and  pretending  to  look  carefully  after  it ;  at  last,  when  she 
had  tired  my  patience,  she  confessed  that  her  neighbor’s 
wife  had  borrowed  it  last  night ;  this  raised  my  passion 
and  I  chid  her,  and  she  began  to  curse,  and  wished  me  a 
bad  journey  and  as  bad  a  return ;  all  which  curses,  pray 
God,  may  fall  upon  her  own  head.  At  last  my  passion 
grew  high,  and  I  began  to  cudgel  her,  and  presently  the 
neighbors  and  women  coming  in,  there  was  fine  work  ;  I 
am  so  bruised  that  it  was  as  much  as  I  could  do  to  come 
hither  to  desire  you  to  employ  another  man,  for  I  protest 
I  am  amazed  and  in  a  very  bad  condition. 

19.  Upon  this  news  we  were  strangely  altered.  Just 
before  we  were  angry  with  the  man  that  endeavored  to  put 
it  off ;  and  now  the  time  approaching,  the  very  minute  just 
upon  us,  and  it  being  impossible  to  defer  the  matter,  we 
found  ourselves  in  great  anxiety  and  perplexity.  But  I, 
speaking  to  Hipposthenides  and  taking  him  by  the  hand, 
bade  him  be  of  good  courage,  for  the  Gods  themselves 
seemed  to  invite  us  to  action.  Presently  we  parted.  Phyl- 
lidas  went  home  to  prepare  his  entertainment,  and  to  make 
Archias  drunk  as  soon  as  conveniently  he  could ;  Charon 
went  to  his  house  to  receive  the  exiles ;  and  I  and  Theo¬ 
critus  went  back  to  Simmias  again,  that  having  now  a  good 
opportunity,  we  might  discourse  with  Epaminondas. 

20.  We  found  them  engaged  in  a  notable  dispute,  which 
Galaxidorus  and  Phidolaus  had  touched  upon  before ;  the 
subject  of  the  enquiry  was  this,  —  What  kind  of  substance 
or  power  was  the  famed  Daemon  of  Socrates  ?  Simmias's 
reply  to  Galaxidorus’s  discourse  we  did  not  hear ;  but  he 
said  that,  having  once  asked  Socrates  about  it  and  received 
no  answer,  he  never  repeated  the  same  question;  but  he 


148 


A  DISCOURSE  CONCERNING 


had  often  heard  him  declare  those  to  be  vain  pretenders 
who  said  they  had  seen  any  divine  apparition,  while  to 
those  who  affirmed  that  they  heard  a  voice  he  would 
gladly  hearken,  and  would  eagerly  enquire  into  the  par¬ 
ticulars.  And  this  upon  consideration  gave  us  probable 
reasons  to  conjecture  that  this  Daemon  of  Socrates  was  not 
an  apparition,  but  rather  a  sensible  perception  of  a  voice, 
or  an  apprehension  of  some  words,  which  after  an  unac¬ 
countable  manner  affected  him ;  as  in  a  dream  there  is  no 
real  voice,  yet  we  have  fancies  and  apprehensions  of  words 
which  make  us  imagine  that  we  hear  some  speak.  This 
perception  in  dreams  is  usual,  because  the  body  whilst  we 
are  asleep  is  quiet  and  undisturbed ;  but  when  we  are 
awake,  meaner  thoughts  creep  in,  and  we  can  hardly  bring 
our  souls  to  observe  better  advertisements.  For  being  in 
a  hurry  of  tumultuous  passions  and  distracting  business, 
we  cannot  compose  our  mind  or  make  it  listen  to  the  dis¬ 
coveries.  But  Socrates’s  understanding  being  pure,  free 
from  passion,  and  mixing  itself  with  the  body  no  more  than 
necessity  required,  was  easy  to  be  moved  and  apt  to  take 
an  impression  from  every  thing  that  was  applied  to  it ;  now 
that  which  was  applied  was  not  a  voice,  but  more  probably  a 
declaration  of  a  Daemon,  by  which  the  very  thing  that  it 
would  declare  was  immediately  and  without  audible  voice 
represented  to  his  mind.  Voice  is  like  a  stroke  given  to 
the  soul,  which  receives  speech  forcibly  entering  at  the 
ears  whilst  we  discourse  ;  but  the  understanding  of  a  more 
excellent  nature  affects  a  capable  soul,  by  applying  the  very 
thing  to  be  understood  to  it,  so  that  there  is  no  need  of 
another  stroke.  And  the  soul  obeys,  as  it  stretches  or 
slackens  her  affections,  not  forcibly,  as  if  it  wrought  by 
contrary  passions,  but  smoothly  and  gently,  as  if  it  moved 
flexible  and  loose  reins.  And  sure  nobody  can  wonder  at 
this,  that  hath  observed  what  great  ships  of  burden  are 
turned  by  a  small  helm,  or  seen  a  potter’s  wheel  move 


SOCRATES’S  DAEMON 


149 


round  by  the  gentle  touch  of  one  finger.  These  are  life¬ 
less  things,  it  is  true  ;  but  being  of  a  frame  fit  for  motion, 
by  reason  of  their  smoothness,  they  yield  to  the  least  im-  • 
pulse.  The  soul  of  man,  being  stretched  with  a  thousand 
inclinations,  as  with  cords,  is  the  most  tractable  instrument 
that  is,  and  if  once  rationally  excited,  easy  to  be  moved  to 
the  object  that  is  to  be  conceived  ;  for  here  the  beginnings 
of  the  passions  and  appetites  spread  to  the  understanding 
mind,  and  that  being  once  agitated,  they  are  drawn  back 
again,  and  so  stretch  and  raise  the  whole  man.  Hence 
you  may  guess  how  great  is  the  force  of  a  conception  when 
it  hath  entered  the  mind  ;  for  the  bones  that  are  insensible, 
the  nerves,  the  flesh  that  is  full  of  humors,  and  the  heavy 
mass  composed  of  all  these,  lying  quiet  and  at  rest,  as 
soon  as  the  soul  gives  the  impulse  and  raiseth  an  appetite 
to  move  towards  any  object,  are  all  roused  and  invigorated, 
and  every  member  seems  a  wing  to  carry  it  forward  to 
action.  Nor  is  it  impossible  or  even  very  difficult  to  con¬ 
ceive  the  manner  of  this  motion  and  stirring,  by  which  the 
soul  having  conceived  any  thing  draweth  after  her,  by  means 
of  appetites,  the  whole  mass  of  the  body.  But  inasmuch 
as  language,  apprehended  without  any  sensible  voice,  easily 
excites ;  so,  in  my  opinion,  the  understanding  of  a  supe¬ 
rior  nature  and  a  more  divine  soul  may  excite  an  inferior 
soul,  touching  it  from  without,  like  as  one  speech  may 
touch  and  rouse  another,  and  as  light  causes  its  own  re¬ 
flection.  We,  it  is  true,  as  it  were  groping  in  the  dark, 
find  out  one  another’s  conceptions  by  the  voice  ;  but  the 
conceptions  of  the  Daemons  carry  a  light  with  them,  and 
shine  to  those  that  are  able  to  perceive  them,  so  that  there 
is  no  need  of  words  such  as  men  use  as  signs  to  one 
another,  seeing  thereby  only  the  images  of  the  concep¬ 
tions,  and  being  unable  to  see  the  conceptions  themselves 
unless  they  enjoy  a  peculiar  and  (as  I  said  before)  a  divine 
light.  This  may  be  illustrated  from  the  nature  and  effect 


a5o 


A  DISCOURSE  CONCERNING 


of  voice  ;  for  the  air  being  formed  into  articulate  sounds, 
and  made  all  voice,  transmits  the  conception  of  the  soul 
to  the  hearer  ;  so  that  it  is  no  wonder  if  the  air,  that  is 
very  apt  to  take  impressions,  being  fashioned  according  to 
the  object  conceived  by  a  more  excellent  nature,  signifies 
that  conception  to  some  divine  and  extraordinary  men. 
For  as  a  stroke  upon  a  brazen  shield,  when  the  noise 
ariseth  out  of  a  hollow,  is  heard  only  by  those  who  are  in 
a  convenient  position,  and  is  not  perceived  by  others  ;  so 
the  speeches  of  the  Daemon,  though  indiflferently  applied 
to  all,  yet  sound  only  to  those  who  are  of  a  quiet  temper 
and  sedate  mind,  and  such  as  we  call  holy  and  divine  men. 
Most  believe  that  Daemons  communicate  some  illumina¬ 
tions  to  men  asleep,  but  think  it  strange  and  incredible 
that  they  should  communicate  the  like  to  them  whilst  they 
are  awake  and  have  their  senses  and  reason  vigorous  ;  as 
wise  a  fancy  as  it  is  to  imagine  that  a  musician  can  use  his 
harp  when  the  strings  are  slack,  but  cannot  play  when 
they  are  screwed  up  and  in  tune.  For  they  do  not  con¬ 
sider  that  the  effect  is  hindered  by  the  unquietness  and 
incapacity  of  their  own  minds  ;  from  which  inconveniences 
our  friend  Socrates  was  free,  as  the  oracle  assured  his 
father  whilst  he  was  a  boy.  For  that  commanded  him  to 
let  young  Socrates  do  what  he  would,  not  to  force  or  draw 
him  from  his  inclinations,  but  let  the  boy’s  humor  have  its 
free  course ;  to  beg  Jupiter’s  and  the  Muses’  blessing  upon 
him,  and  take  no  farther  care,  intimating  that  he  had  a 
good  guide  to  direct  him,  that  was  better  than  ten  thousand 
tutors  and  instructors. 

21.  This,  Phidolaus,  was  my  notion  of  Socrates’s  Daemon, 
whilst  he  lived  and  since  his  death  ;  and  T  look  upon  all 
they  mention  about  omens,  sneezings,  or  the  like,  to  be 
dreams  and  fooleries.  But  what  I  heard  Timarchus  dis¬ 
course  upon  the  same  subject,  lest  some  should  think  I 
delight  in  fables,  perhaps  it  is  best  to  conceal.  By  no 


SOCRATES’S  DAEMON. 


151 


means,  cried  Theocritus,  let’s  have  it ;  for  though  they  do 
not  perfectly  agree  with  it,  yet  I  know  many  fables  that 
border  upon  truth  ;  but  pray  first  tell  us  who  this  Timar- 
chus  was,  for  I  never  was  acquainted  with  the  man.  Yery 
likely,  Theocritus,  said  Simmias  ;  for  he  died  when  he  was 
very  young,  and  desired  Socrates  to  bury  him  by  Lampo- 
cles,  the  son  of  Socrates,  who  was  his  dear  friend,  of  the 
same  age,  and  died  not  many  days  before  him.  He  being 
eager  to  know  (for  he  was  a  fine  youth,  and  a  beginner  in 
philosophy)  what  Socrates’s  Daemon  was,  acquainting  none 
but  Cebes  and  me  with  his  design,  went  down  into  Tro- 
phonius’s  cave,  and  performed  all  the  ceremonies  that  were 
requisite  to  gain  an  oracle.  There  he  stayed  two  nights 
and  one  day,  so  that  his  friends  despaired  of  his  return 
and  lamented  him  as  lost ;  but  the  next  morning  he  came 
out  with  a  very  cheerful  countenance,  and  having  adored 
the  God,  and  freed  himself  from  the  thronging  inquisitive 
crowd,  he  told  us  many  wonderful  things  that  he  had  seen 
and  heard ;  for  this  was  his  relation. 

22.  As  soon  as  he  entered,  a  thick  darkness  surrounded 
him ;  then,  after  he  had  prayed,  he  lay  a  long  while  upon 
the  ground,  but  was  not  certain  whether  awake  or  in  a 
dream,  only  he  imagined  that  a  smart  stroke  fell  upon  his 
head,  and  that  through  the  parted  sutures  of  his  skull  his 
soul  fled  out ;  which  being  now  loose,  and  mixed  with  a 
purer  and  more  lightsome  air,  was  very  jocund  and  well 
pleased ;  it  seemed  to  begin  to  breathe,  as  if  till  then  it 
had  been  almost  choked,  and  grew  bigger  than  before,  like 
a  sail  swollen  by  the  wind ;  then  he  heard  a  small  noise 
whirling  round  his  head,  very  sweet  and  ravishing,  and 
looking  up  he  saw  no  earth,  but  certain  islands  shining  with 
a  gentle  fire,  which  interchanged  colors  according  to  the 
different  variation  of  the  light,  innumerable  and  very  large, 
unequal,  but  all  round.  These  whirling,  it  is  likely,  agi¬ 
tated  the  ether,  and  made  that  sound  ;  for  the  ravishing  soft- 


152 


A  DISCOURSE  CONCERNING 


ness  of  it  was  very  agreeable  to  their  even  motions.  Be¬ 
tween  these  islands  there  was  a  large  sea  or  lake  which 
shone  very  gloriously,  being  adorned  with  a  gay  variety  of 
colors  mixed  with  blue ;  some  few  of  the  islands  swam  in 
this  sea,  and  were  carried  to  the  other  side  of  the  current ; 
others,  and  those  the  most,  were  carried  up  and  down, 
tossed,  whirled,  and  almost  overwhelmed. 

The  sea  in  some  places  seemed  very  deep,  especially 
toward  the  south,  in  other  parts  very  shallow ;  it  ebbed  and 
flowed,  but  the  tides  were  neither  high  nor  strong  ;  in  some 
parts  its  color  was  pure  and  sea-green,  in  others  it  looked 
muddy  and  as  troubled  as  a  pool.  The  current  brings 
those  islands  that  were  carried  over  to  the  other  side  back 
again  ;  but  not  to  the  same  point,  so  that  their  motions  are 
not  exactly  circular,  but  winding.  About  the  middle  of 
these  islands,  the  ambient  sea  seemed  to  bend  into  a  hol¬ 
low,  a  little  less,  as  it  appeared  to  him,  than  eight  parts 
of  the  whole.  Into  this  sea  were  two  entrances,  by  which 
it  received  two  opposite  fiery  rivers,  running  in  with  so 
strong  a  current,  that  it  spread  a  fiery  white  over  a  great 
part  of  the  blue  sea.  This  sight  pleased  him  very  much  ; 
but  when  he  looked  downward,  there  appeared  a  vast 
chasm,  round,  as  if  he  had  looked  into  a  divided  sphere, 
very  deep  and  frightful,  full  of  thick  darkness,  which  was 
every  now  and  then  troubled  and  disturbed.  Thence  a 
thousand  bowlings  and  bellowings  of  beasts,  cries  of  chil¬ 
dren,  groans  of  men  and  women,  and  all  sorts  of  terrible 
noises  reached  his  ears  ;  but  faintly,  as  being  far  off  and 
rising  through  the  vast  hollow  ;  and  this  terrified  him  ex¬ 
ceedingly. 

A  little  while  after,  an  invisible  thing  spoke  thus  to  him  : 
Timarchus,  what  dost  thou  desire  to  understand  ]  And 
he  replied.  Every  thing  ;  for  what  is  there  that  is  not  won¬ 
derful  and  surprising?  We  have  little  to  do  with  those 
things  above,  they  belong  to  other  Gods  ;  but  as  for  Pro- 


SOCRATES’S  DAEMON. 


153 


serpina’s  quarter,  which  is  one  of  the  four  (as  Styx  di¬ 
vides  them)  that  we  govern,  you  may  visit  it  if  you  please. 
But  what  is  Styx  ?  The  way  to  hell,  which  reaches  to  the 
contrary  quarter,  and  with  its  head  divides  the  light  ;  for, 
as  you  see,  it  rises  from  hell  below,  and  as  it  rolls  on 
touches  also  the  light,  and  is  the  limit  of  the  extremest 
part  of  the  universe.  There  are  four  divisions  of  all 
things  ;  the  first  is  of  life,  the  second  of  motion,  the  third 
of  generation,  and  the  fourth  of  corruption.  The  first  is 
coupled  to  the  second  by  a  unit,  in  the  substance  invisible ; 
the  second  to  the  third  by  understanding,  in  the  Sun ;  and 
the  third  to  the  fourth  by  nature,  in  the  Moon.  Over  every 
one  of  these  ties  a  Fate,  daughter  of  Necessity,  presides  ; 
over  the  first,  Atropos  ;  over  the  second,  Clotho  ;  and 
Lachesis  over  the  third,  which  is  in  the  Moon,  and  about 
which  is  the  whole  whirl  of  generation.  All  the  other 
islands  have  Gods  in  them  ;  but  the  Moon,  belonging  to 
earthly  Daemons,  is  raised  but  a  little  above  Styx.  Styx 
seizes  on  her  once  in  a  hundred  and  seventy-seven  second 
revolutions  ;  and  when  it  approaches,  the  souls  are  startled, 
and  cry  out  for  fear ;  for  hell  swallows  up  a  great  many, 
and  the  Moon  receives  some  swimming  up  from  below 
which  have  run  through  their  whole  course  of  generation, 
unless  they  are  wicked  and  impure.  For  against  such  she 
throws  flashes  of  lightning,  makes  horrible  noises,  and 
frights  them  away ;  so  that,  missing  their  desired  happiness 
and  bewailing  their  condition,  they  are  carried  down  again 
(as  you  see)  to  undergo  another  generation.  But,  said 
Timarchus,  I  see  nothing  but  stars  leaping  about  the  hol¬ 
low,  some  carried  into  it,  and  some  darting  out  of  it  again. 
These,  said  the  voice,  are  Daemons  ;  for  thus  it  is.  Every 
soul  hath  some  portion  of  reason ;  a  man  cannot  be  a  man 
without  it ;  but  as  much  of  each  soul  as  is  mixed  with  flesh 
and  appetite  is  changed,  and  through  pain  or  pleasure 
becomes  irrational.  Every  soul  doth  not  mix  herself  after 


154 


A  DISCOURSE  CONCERNING 


one  sort ;  for  some  plunge  themselves  into  the  body,  and 
so  in  this  life  their  whole  frame  is  corrupted  by  appetite 
and  passion ;  others  are  mixed  as  to  some  part,  but  the 
purer  part  still  remains  without  the  body,  —  it  is  not  drawn 
down  into  it,  but  it  swims  above,  and  touches  the  extremest 
part  of  the  man’s  head  ;  it  is  like  a  cord  to  hold  up  and 
direct  the  subsiding  part  of  the  soul,  as  long  as  it  proves 
obedient  and  is  not  overcome  by  the  appetites  of  the  flesh. 
That  part  that  is  plunged  into  the  body  is  called  the  soul, 
but  the  uncorrupted  part  is  called  the  mind,  and  the  vulgar 
think  it  is  within  them,  as  likewise  they  imagine  the  image 
reflected  from  a  glass  tp  be  in  that.  But  the  more  intelli¬ 
gent,  who  know  it  to  be  witliout,  call  it  a  Daemon.  There¬ 
fore  those  stars  which  you  see  extinguished  imagine  to  be 
souls  whose  whole  substances  are  plunged  into  bodies  ;  and 
those  that  recover  their  light  and  rise  from  below,  that 
shake  off  the  ambient  mist  and  darkness,  as  if  it  were’ 
clay  and  dirt,  to  be  such  as  retire  from  their  bodies  after 
death ;  and  those  that  are  carried  up  on  high  are  the 
Daemons  of  wise  men  ’  and  philosophers.  But  pray  pry 
narrowly,  and  endeavor  to  discover  the  tie  by  which  every 
one  is  united  to  a  soul.  Upon  this,  Timarchus  looked  as 
steadfastly  as  he  could,  and  saw  some  of  the  stars  very 
much  agitated,  and  some  less,  as  the  corks  upon  a  net ; 
and  some  whirled  round  like  a  spindle,  having  a  very  irreg¬ 
ular  and  uneven  motion,  and  not  being  able  to  run  in  a 
straight  line.  And  thus  the  voice  said  :  Those  that  have  a 
straight  and  regular  motion  belong  to  souls  which  are  very 
manageable,  by  reason  of  their  genteel  breeding  and  phil¬ 
osophical  education,  and  which  upon  earth  do  not  plunge 
themselves  into  the  foul  clay  and  become  irrational. 
But  those  that  move  irregularly,  sometimes  upwards,  some¬ 
times  downwards,  as  striving  to  break  loose  from  a  vexing 
chain,  are  yoked  to  and  strive  with  very  untractable  condi¬ 
tions,  which  ignorance  and  want  of  learning  make  head- 


SOCRATES’S  DAEMON. 


155 


strong  and  ungovernable.  Sometimes  they  get  the  better 
of  the  passions,  and  draw  them  to  the  right  side ;  some¬ 
times  they  are  drawn  away  by  them,  and  sink  into  sin  and 
folly,  and  then  again  endeavor  to  get  out.  For  the  tie,  as 
it  were  a  bridle  on  the  irrational  part  of  the  soul,  when  it 
is  pulled  back,  draws  in  repentance  for  past  sins,  and 
shame  for  loose  and  unlawfid  pleasures,  which  is  a  pain 
and  stroke  inflicted  on  the  soul  by  a  governing  and  pre¬ 
vailing  power ;  till  by  this  means  it  becomes  gentle  and 
manageable,  and  like  a  tamed  beast,  without  blows  or  tor¬ 
ment,  it  understands  the  minutest  direction  of  the  Daemon. 
Such  indeed  are  but  very  slowly  and  very  hardly  brought  to  a 
right  temper ;  but  of  that  sort  which  from  the  very  begin¬ 
ning  are  governable  and  obedient  to  the  direction  of  the 
Daemon,  are  those  prophetic  souls,  those  intimates  of  the 
Gods.  Such  was  the  soul  of  Hermodorus  the  Clazomenian, 
of  which  it  is  reported  that  for  several  nights  and  days  it 
would  leave  his  body,  travel  over  many  countries,  and  re¬ 
turn  after  it  had  viewed  things  and  discoursed  with  persons 
at  a  great  distance  ;  till  at  last,  by  the  treachery  of  his 
wife,  his  body  was  delivered  to  his  enemies,  and  they  burnt 
the  house  while  the  inhabitant  was  abroad.  It  is  certain, 
this  is  a  mere  fable.  The  soul  never  went  out  of  the 
body,  but  it  loosened  the  tie  that  held  the  Daemon,  and 
permitted  it  to  wander ;  so  that  this,  seeing  and  hearing 
the  various  external  occurrences,  brought  in  the  news  to 
it ;  yet  those  that  burnt  his  body  are  even  till  this  time 
severely  tormented  in  the  deepest  pit  of  hell.  But  this, 
youth,  you  shall  more  clearly  perceive  three  months  hence  ; 
now  depart.  The  voice  continuing  no  longer,  Timarchus 
(as  he  said)  turned  about  to  discover  who  it  was  that  spoke  ; 
but  a  violent  pain,  as  if  his  skull  had  been  pressed  together, 
seized  his  head,  so  that  he  lost  all  sense  and  understanding ; 
but  in  a  little  while  recovering,  he  found  himself  in  the 
entrance  of  the  cave,  where  he  at  first  lay  down. 


156 


A  DISCOURSE  CONCERNING 


23.  This  was  Timarchus’s  story ;  and  when  at  Athens, 
in  the  third  month  after  he  had  heard  the  voice,  he  died. 
We,  amazed  at  the  event,  told  Socrates  the  whole  tale. 
Socrates  was  angry  with  us  for  not  discovering  it  whilst 
Timarchus  was  alive;  for  he  would  very  gladly  have  had 
a  more  full  discovery  from  his  own  mouth.  I  have  done, 
Theocritus,  with  the  story  and  discourse ;  but  pray,  shall 
we  not  entreat  the  stranger  to  discuss  this  point?  For  it  is 
a  very  proper  subject  for  excellent  and  divine  men.  What 
then,  said  Theanor,  shall  we  not  have  the  opinion  of  Epa- 
minondas,  who  is  of  the  same  school,  and  as  well  learned 
as  myself  in  these  matters  ?  But  my  father  with  a  smile 
said :  Sir,  that  is  his  humor ;  he  loves  to  be  silent,  he  is 
very  cautious  how  he  proposeth  any  thing,  but  will  hear 
eternally,  and  is  never  weary  of  an  instructive  story ;  so 
that  Spintharus  the  Tarentine,  who  lived  with  him  a  long 
time,  would  often  say  that  he  never  met  a  man  that  knew 
more,  or  spake  less.  Therefore,  pray  sir,  let  us  have  your 
thoughts. 

24.  Then,  said  Theanor,  in  my  opinion,  that  story  of 
Timarchus  should  be  accounted  sacred  and  inviolable,  and 
consecrated  to  God ;  and  I  wonder  that  any  one  should 
disbelieve  his  report,  as  Simmias  has  related  it.  Swans, 
horses,  dogs,  and  dragons  we  sometimes  call  sacred ;  and 
yet  we  cannot  believe  that  men  are  sacred  and  favorites  of 
Heaven,  though  we  confess  the  love  of  man  and  not  the 
love  of  birds  to  be  an  attribute  of  the  Deity.  Now  as  one 
that  loves  horses  doth  not  take  an  equal  care  of  the  whole 
kind,  but  always  choosing  out  some  one  excellent,  rides, 
trains,  feeds,  and  loves  him  above  the  rest ;  so  amongst 
men,  the  superior  powers,  choosing,  as  it  were,  the  best  out 
of  the  whole  herd,  breed  them  more  carefully  and  nicely ; 
not  directing  them,  it  is  true,  by  reins  and  bridles,  but  by 
reason  imparted  by  certain  notices  and  signs,  which  the 
vulgar  and  common  sort  do  not  understand.  For  neither 


SOCRATES’S  DAEMON. 


157 


do  all  dogs  know  the  huntsman’s,  nor  all  horses  the  jockey’s 
signs ;  but  those  that  are  bred  to  it  are  easily  directed  by  a 
whistle  or  a  hollow,  and  very  readily  obey.  And  Homer 
seems  to  have  understood  the  difference  I  mention ;  for 
some  of  the  prophets  he  calls  augurs,  some  priests,  some 
such  as  understood  the  voice  of  the  very  Gods,  were  of  the 
same  mind  with  them,  and  could  foretell  things ;  thus, 

Helenus  Priam’s  son  the  same  decreed, 

On  which  consulting  Gods  before  agreed. 

And  in  another  place,  ^ 

As  I  heard  lately  from  th’  immortal  Gods.* 

For  as  those  that  are  not  near  the  persons  of  kings  or  com¬ 
manders  understand  their  minds  by  fire-signals,  proclamation, 
sound  of  trumpet,  or  the  like,  but  their  favorites  receive  it 
from  their  own  mouth  ;  so  the  Deity  converses  immediately 
but  with  very  few,  and  very  seldom ;  but  to  most  he  gives 
signs,  from  which  the  art  of  divination  is  gathered.  So 
that  the  Gods  direct  the  lives  of  very  few,  and  of  such  only 
whom  they  intend  to  raise  to  the  highest  degree  of  per¬ 
fection  and  happiness.  Those  souls  (as  Hesiod  sings)  that 
are  not  to  be  put  into  another  body,  but  are  freed  from  all 
union  with  flesh,  turn  guardian  Daemons  and  preside  over 
others.  For  as  wrestlers,  when  old  age  makes  them  unfit 
for  exercise,  have  some  love  for  it  still  left,  delight  to  see 
others  wrestle,  and  encourage  them ;  so  souls  that  have 
passed  all  the  stages  of  life,  and  by  their  virtue  are  exalted 
into  Daemons,  do  not  slight  the  endeavors  of  man,  but  be¬ 
ing  kind  to  those  that  strive  for  the  same  attainments,  and 
in  some  sort  banding  and  siding  with  them,  encourage  and 
help  them  on,  when  they  see  them  near  their  hope  and  ready 
to  catch  the  desired  prize.  For  the  Daemon  doth  not  go 
along  with  every  one ;  but  as  in  a  shipwreck,  those  that 
are  far  from  land  their  friends  standing  on  the  shore  only 


*  n.  VII.  44  and  53. 


158 


A  DISCOURSE  CONCERNING 


look  upon  and  pity,  but  those  that  are  near  they  encourage 
and  wade  in  to  save ;  so  the  Daemon  deals  with  mankind. 
Whilst  we  are  immersed  in  worldly  affairs,  and  are  changing 
bodies,  as  fit  vehicles  for  our  conveyance,  he  lets  us  alone 
to  try  our  strength,  patiently  to  stem  the  tide  and  get  into 
the  haven  by  ourselves ;  but  if  a  soul  hath  gone  through 
the  trials  of  a  thousand  generations,  and  now,  when  her 
course  is  almost  finished,  strives  bravely,  and  with  a  great 
deal  of  labor  endeavors  to  ascend,  the  Deity  permits  her 
proper  Genius  to  aid  her,  and  even  gives  leave  to  any  other 
that  is  willing  to  assist.  The  Daemon,  thus  permitted, 
presently  sets  about  the  work  ;  and  upon  his  approach,  if 
the  soul  obeys  and  hearkens  to  his  directions,  she  is  saved  ; 
if  not,  the  Daemon  leaves  her,  and  she  lies  in  a  miserable 
condition. 

25.  This  discourse  was  just  ended,  when  Epaminondas 
looking  upon  me,  said :  Caphisias,  it  is  time  for  you  to  be 
at  the  ring,  your  usual  company  will  expect  you ;  we,  as 
soon  as  we  break  company,  will  take  care  of  Theanor. 
And  I  replied  :  Sir,  I’ll  go  presently,  but  I  think  Theocritus 
here  hath  something  to  say  to  you  and  me  and  Galaxidorus. 
Let’s  hear  it  in  God’s  name,  said  he  ;  and  rising  up,  he  led 
us  into  a  corner  of  the  porch.  When  we  had  him  in  the 
midst  of  us,  we  all  began  to  desire  him  to  make  one  in  the 
conspiracy.  He  replied  that  he  knew  the  day  appointed 
for  the  exiles’  return,  and  that  he  and  Gorgidas  had  their 
friends  ready  upon  occasion  ;  but  that  he  was  not  for  killing 
any  of  the  citizens  without  due  process  of  law,  unless  some 
grave  necessity  seemed  to  warrant  the  execution.  Besides, 
it  was  requisite  that  there  should  be  some  unconcerned  in 
the  design ;  for  such  the  multitude  would  not  be  jealous 
of,  but  would  think  what  they  advised  was  for  the  good  of 
the  commonwealth,  that  their  counsels  proceeded  from  the 
love  they  had  for  their  country,  and  not  from  any  design  of 
procuring  their  own  safety.  This  motion  we  liked;  he 


SOCRATES’S  DAEMON. 


159 


returned  to  Simmias  and  his  company,  and  we  went  to  the 
ring,  where  we  met  our  friends,  and  as  we  wrestled  together, 
communicated  our  thoughts  to  one  another,  and  put  things 
in  order  for  action.  There  we  saw  Philip  and  Archias  very 
spruce,  anointed  and  perfumed,  going  away  to  the  prepared 
feast ;  for  Phyllidas,  fearing  they  would  execute  Amplii- 
theus  before  supper,  as  soon  as  he  had  brought  Lysanoridas 
going,  went  to  Archias,  and  putting  him  in  hopes  of  the 
woman’s  company  he  desired,  and  assuring  him  she  would 
be  at  the  place  appointed,  soon  trepanned  him  into  stupid 
carelessness  and  sensuality  with  his  fellow- wantons. 

26.  About  the  night,  the  wind  rising,  the  sharpness  of 
the  weather  increased,  and  that  forced  most  to  keep  within 
doors ;  we  meeting  with  Damoclides,  Pelopidas,  and  The- 
opompus  received  them,  and  others  met  other  of  the  exiles  ; 
for  as  soon  as  they  were  come  over  Cithaeron,  they  separated, 
and  the  stormy  weather  obliged  them  to  walk  with  their 
faces  covered,  so  that  without  any  fear  or  danger  they  passed 
through  the  city.  Some  as  they  entered  had  a  flash  of 
lightning  on  their  right-hand,  without  a  clap  of  thunder, 
and  that  portended  safety  and  glory  ;  intimating  that  their 
actions  should  be  splendid  and  without  danger. 

27.  When  we  were  all  together  in  the  house  (eight  and 
forty  in  number),  and  Theocritus  in  a  little  room  by  himself 
offering  sacrifice,  there  Avas  heard  on  a  sudden  a  loud 
knocking  at  the  gate  ;  and  presently  one  came  and  told  us 
that  two  of  Archias’s  guard,  who  had  some  earnest  busi¬ 
ness  with  Charon,  knocked  at  the  gate,  demanding  entrance, 
and  Avere  very  angry  that  they  Avere  not  admitted  sooner. 
Charon  surprised  commanded  the  doors  to  be  opened  pres¬ 
ently,  and  going  to  meet  them  Avith  a  garland  on  his  head, 
as  if  he  had  been  sacrificing  or  making  merry,  asked  their 
business.  One  of  them  replied,  Philip  and  Archias  sent 
us  to  tell  you  that  you  must  come  before  them  presently. 
And  Charon  demanding  Avhy  they  sent  for  him  in  such 


160 


A  DISCOURSE  CONCERNING 


haste,  and  if  all  was  well ;  We  know  nothing  more,  the 
messenger  returned,  but  what  answer  shall  we  carry  back  ? 
That,  replied  Charon,  putting  off  his  garland  and  putting 
on  his  cloak,  I  follow  you  ;  for  should  I  go  along  with  you, 
my  friends  would  be  concerned,  imagining  that  I  am  taken 
into  custody.  Do  so,  said  they,  for  we  must  go  and  carry 
the  governor’s  orders  to  the  city  guard.  With  this  they 
departed,  but  Charon  coming  in  and  telling  us  the  story, 
we  were  all  very  much  surprised,  imagining  the  design  had 
been  discovered ;  and  most  suspected  Hippos thenides,  and 
thought  that  he,  having  endeavored  to  hinder  their  coming 
through  Chido  and  failed,  now  the  time  for  the  dangerous 
attempt  unavoidably  approached,  grew  faint-hearted  and 
made  a  discovery  of  the  ^^lot.  And  this  seemed  probable, 
for  he  did  not  appear  at  Charon’s  house  with  the  rest,  and 
so  was  looked  upon  by  every  one  to  be  a  rascal  and  a  turn  • 
coat ;  yet  we  all  were  of  opinion  that  Charon  ought  to 
obey  the  governor’s  orders  and  go  to  them.  Then  he, 
commanding  his  son  to  be  brought  to  him,  —  the  prettiest 
youth,  Archidamus,  in  all  Thebes,  skilled  in  most  exercises, 
scarce  fifteen  years  old,  but  very  strong  and  lusty  for  his 
age,  —  thus  said :  Friends,  this  is  my  only  and  my  beloved 
son,  and  him  I  put  into  your  hands,  conjuring  you  by  all 
that’s  good,  if  you  find  me  treacherous,  to  kill  him  and 
have  no  mercy  upon  him  for  my  sake ;  but  as  for  your 
parts,  sirs,  be  provided  against  the  worst  that  can  come;  do 
not  yield  your  bodies  tamely  to  be  butchered  by  base  fel¬ 
lows,  but  behave  yourselves  bravely,  and  preserve  your 
souls  invincible  for  the  good  and  glory  of  your  country. 
When  Charon  had  ended,  we  admired  the  honesty  and 
bravery  of  the  man,  but  were  angry  at  his  suspicion,  and 
bade  him  take  away  his  son.  Charon,  said  Pelopidas,  we 
should  have  taken  it  more  kindly,  if  you  had  removed  your 
son  into  another  house,  for  why  should  he  suffer  for  being 
in  our  company '?  Nay,  let  us  send  him  away  now,  that, 


SOCRATES’S  DAEMON. 


161 


if  we  fall,  lie  may  live,  and  grow  up  to  punish  the  tyrants 
and  be  a  brave  revenger  of  our  deaths.  By  no  means,  re¬ 
plied  Charon,  he  shall  stay  here,  and  run  the  same  danger 
with  you  all,  for  it  is  not  best  that  he  should  fall  into  the 
power  of  his  enemies ;  and  you,  my  boy,  be  daring  above 
thy  age,  and  with  these  brave  citizens  venture  upon  neces¬ 
sary  dangers  for  the  defence  of  liberty  and  virtue ;  for  we 
have  good  hopes  still  left,  and  perhaps  some  God  will  pro¬ 
tect  us  in  this  just  and  generous  undertaking. 

28.  These  words  of  his,  Archidamus,  drew  tears  from 
many ;  but  he  not  shedding  so  much  as  one,  and  deliver¬ 
ing  his  son  to  Pelopidas,  went  out  of  the  door,  saluting 
and  encouraging  every  one  as  he  went.  But  you  would 
have  been  exceedingly  surprised  at  the  serene  and  fearless 
temper  of  the  boy,  with  a  soul  as  great  as  that  of  Achil¬ 
les’s  son ;  for  he  did  not  change  color  or  seem  concerned, 
but  drew  out  and  tried  the  goodness  of  Pelopidas’s  sword. 
In  the  mean  time  Diotonus,  one  of  Cephisodorus’s  friends, 
came  to  us  with  his  sword  girt  and  breastplate  on  ;  and 
understanding  that  Archias  had  sent  for  Charon,  he  chid 
our  delay,  and  urged  us  to  go  and  set  upon  the  house 
presently  ;  for  so  we  should  be  too  quick  for  them,  and 
take  them  unprovided.  Or,  if  we  did  not  like  that  pro¬ 
posal,  he  said,  it  was  better  to  go  out  and  fall  upon  them 
while  they  were  scattered  and  in  confusion,  than  to  coop 
ourselves  up  altogether  in  one  room,  and  like  a  hive  of 
bees  be  taken  off  by  our  enemies.  Theocritus  likewise 
pressed  us  to  go  on,  affirming  that  the  sacrifices  were 
lucky,  and  promised  safety  and  success. 

29.  Upon  this,  whilst  we  were  arming  and  setting  our¬ 
selves  in  order,  Charon  came  in,  looking  very  merrily  and 
jocund,  and  with  a  smile  said :  Courage,  sirs,  there  is  no 
danger,  but  the  design  goes  on  very  well ;  for  Archias 
and  Philip,  as  soon  as  they  heard  that  according  to  their 
order  I  was  come,  being  very  drunk  and  weakened  in 


162 


A  DISCOURSE  CONCERNING 


body  and  understanding,  with  much  ado  came  out  to  me ; 
and  Archias  said,  I  hear  that  the  exiles  are  returned,  and 
lurk  privately  in  town.  At  this  I  was  very  much  surprised, 
but  recovering  myself  asked.  Who  are  they,  sir,  and  where  ? 
We  don’t  know,  said  Archias,  and  therefore  sent  for  you, 
to  enquire  whether  you  had  heard  any  clear  discovery ; 
and  I,  as  it  were  surprised,  considering  a  little  with  my¬ 
self,  imagined  that  what  they  heard  was  only  uncertain 
report,  and  that  none  of  the  associates  had  made  this  dis¬ 
covery  (for  then  they  would  have  known  the  house),  but 
that  it  was  a  groundless  suspicion  and  rumor  about  town 
that  came  to  their  ears,  and  therefore  said  :  I  remember, 
whilst  Androclidas  was  alive,  that  a  great  many  idle  lying 
stories  were  spread  abroad,  to  trouble  and  amuse  us  ; 
but,  sir,  I  have  not  heard  one  word  of  this,  yet  if  you 
please,  I  will  enquire  what  ground  there  is  for  it,  and  if  I 
tind  any  thing  considerable,  I  shall  give  you  notice.  Yes, 
pray,  said  Phyllidas,  examine  this  matter  very  narrowly  ; 
slight  no  particular,  be  very  diligent  and  careful,  foresight 
is  very  commendable  and  safe.  When  he  had  said  this, 
he  led  back  Archias  into  the  room,  where  they  are  now 
drinking.  But,  sirs,  let  us  not  delay,  but  begging  the 
God’s  assistance,  put  ourselves  presently  upon  action. 
Upon  this,  we  went  to  prayers,  and  encouraged  one  an¬ 
other. 

30.  It  was  now  full  supper-time,  the  wind  was  high, 
and  snow  and  small  rain  fell,  so  that  the  streets  and  nar¬ 
row  lanes  we  passed  were  all  empty.  They  that  were  to 
assault  Leontidas  and  Hypates,  whose  houses  joined,  went 
out  in  their  usual  clothes,  having  no  arms  besides  their 
swords ;  amongst  those  were  Pelopidas,  Democlides,  and 
Cephisodorus.  Charon,  Melon,  and  the  rest  that  w^ere  to 
set  upon  Archias,  put  on  breastplates,  and  shady  fir  or 
pine  garlands  upon  their  heads ;  some  dressed  themselves  in 
women’s  clothes,  so  that  they  looked  like  a  drunken  com- 


SOCRATES’S  DAEMON. 


163 


pany*  of  mummers.  But  our  enemies’  unlucky  Fortune, 
Archidamus,  resolving  to  make  their  folly  and  carelessness 
as  conspicuous  as  our  eagerness  and  courage,  and  having, 
as  in  a  play,  intermixed  a  great  many  dangerous  underplots 
into  our  plan,  now,  at  the  very  point  of  its  execution, 
presented  to  us  a  most  unexpected  and  hazardous  adven¬ 
ture.  For  whilst  Charon,  as  soon  as  ever  he  parted  from 
Archias  and  Philip,  was  come  back  and  was  setting  us 
forward  to  execute  the  design,  a  letter  from  Archias,  the 
chief-priest  of  Athens,  was  sent  to  Archias  our  governor, 
which  contained  a  full  discovery  of  the  plot,  in  what 
house  the  exiles  met,  and  who  were  the  associates.  Ar¬ 
chias  being  now  dead  drunk,  and  quite  beside  himself 
with  expectation  of  the  desired  women,  took  the  letter ; 
and  the  bearer  saying,  “  Sir,  it  contains  matter  of  concern,” 
“  Matters  of  concern  to-morrow,”  he  replied,  and  clapped  it 
under  his  cushion ;  and  calling  for  the  glass,  he  bade  the 
servant  fill  a  brimmer,  and  sent  Phyllidas  often  to  the 
door  to  see  if  the  women  were  coming. 

31.  The  hopes  of  this  company  made  them  sit  long  ;  and 
we  coming  opportunely  quickly  forced  our  way  through 
the  servants  to  the  hall,  and  stood  a  little  at  the  door,  to 
take  notice  of  every  one  at  table ;  our  shady  garlands  and 
apparel  disguising  our  intentions,  all  sat  silent,  in  expecta¬ 
tion  of  what  would  follow.  But  as  soon  as  Melon,  laying 
his  hand  upon  his  sword,  was  making  through  the  midst 
of  them,  Cabirichus  (who  was  the  archon  chosen  by  lot) 
catching  him  by  the  arm  cried  out  to  Phyllidas,  Is  not  this 
Melon  1  Melon  loosed  his  hold  presently,  and  drawing 
out  his  sword,  made  at  staggering  Archias,  and  laid  him 
dead  on  the  floor  ;  Charon  wounded  Philip  in  the  neck, 
and  whilst  he  endeavored  to  defend  himself  with  the  cups 
that  were  about  him,  Lysitheus  threw  him  off  his  seat, 
and  ran  him  through.  We  persuaded  Cabirichus  to  be 
quiet,  not  to  assist  the  tyrants,  but  to  join  with  us  to  free 


164 


A  DISCOURSE  CONCERNING 


his  country,  for  whose  good  he  was  consecrated  governor 
and  devoted  to  the  Gods.  But  when  being  drunk  he 
would  not  harken  to  reason,  but  grew  high,  began  to 
bustle,  and  turned  the  point  of  his  spear  upon  us  (for 
our  governors  always  carry  a  spear  with  them),  I  catching 
it  in  the  midst,  and  raising  it  higher  than  my  head,  de¬ 
sired  him  to  let  it  go  and  consult  his  own  safety,  for  else 
he  would  be  killed.  But  Theopo'mpus,  standing  on  his 
right  side  and  smiting  him  with  his  sword,  said :  Lie 
there,  with  those  whose  interest  you  espoused ;  thou  shalt 
not  wear  the  garland  in  freed  Thebes,  nor  sacrifice  to  the 
Gods  any  more,  by  whom  thou  hast  so  often  curst  thy 
country,  by  making  prayers  so  many  times  for  the  pros¬ 
perity  of  her  enemies.  Cabirichus  falling,  Theocritus 
standing  by  snatched  up  the  sacred  spear,  and  kept  it 
from  being  stained ;  and  some  few  of  the  servants  that 
dared  to  resist  we  presently  despatched  ;  the  others  that 
were  quiet  we  shut  up  in  the  hall,  being  very  unwilling 
that  they  should  get  abroad  and  make  any  discovery,  till 
Ave  knew  whether  the  other  company  had  succeeded  in- 
their  attempt. 

32.  They  managed  their  business  thus :  Pelopidas  and 
those  with  him.  went  softly  and  knocked  at  Leontidas’s  gate  ; 
and  a  servant  coming  to  demand  their  business,  they  said, 
they  came  from  Athens,  and  brought  a  letter  from  Callis- 
tratus  to  Leontidas.  The  servant  went  and  acquainted  his 
master,  and  was  ordered  to  open  the  door ;  as  soon  as  it 
was  unbarred,  they  all  violently  rushed  in,  and  overturn¬ 
ing  the  servant  ran  through  the  hall  directly  to  Leontidas's 
chamber.  He,  presently  suspecting  what  was  the  matter, 
drew  his  dagger  and  stood  upon  his  guard  ;  an  unjust  man, 
it  is  true,  and  a  tyrant,  but  courageous  and  strong  of  his 
hands  ;  but  he  forgot  to  put  out  the  candle  and  get 
amongst  the  invaders  in  the  dark,  and  so  appearing  in  the 
light,  as  soon  as  they  opened  the  door,  he  ran  Cephisodorus 


SOCRATES’S  DAEMON. 


165 


through  the  belly.  Next  he  engaged  Pelopidas,  and  cried  out 
to  the  servants  to  come  and  help  ;  but  those  Samidas  and 
his  men  secured,  nor  did  they  dare  to  come  to  handy  blows 
with  the  strongest  and  most  valiant  of  the  citizens.  There 
was  a  smart  encounter  between  Pelopidas  and  Leontidas, 
for  the  passage  was  very  narrow,  and  Cephisodorus  falling 
and  dying  in  the  midst,  nobody  else  could  come  to  strike 
one  blow.  At  last  Pelopidas,  receiving  a  slight  wound  in 
the  head,  with  repeated  thrusts  overthrew  Leontidas,  and 
killed  him  upon  Cephisodorus,  who  was  yet  breathing ;  for 
he  saw  his  enemy  fall,  and  shaking  Pelopidas  by  the  hand, 
and  saluting  all  the  rest,  he  died  with  a  smile  upon  his 
face.  This  done,  they  went  to  the  house  of  Hypates,  and 
entering  after  the  same  manner,  they  pursued  Hypates, 
flvins  over  the  roof  into  a  neighbor’s  house,  and  caught 
and  killed  him. 

33.  From  thence  they  marched  directly  to  us,  and 
we  met  in  the  piazza  ;  and  having  saluted  and  told  one 
another  our  success,  we  went  all  to  the  prison.  And 
Phyllidas,  calling  out  the  keeper,  said  :  Philip  and  Archias 
command  you  to  bring  Amphitheus  presently  before  them. 
But  he,  considering  the  unseasonableness  of  the  time,  and 
that  Phyllidas,  as  being  yet  hot  and  out  of  breath,  spoke 
with  more  than  ordinary  concern,  suspected  the  cheat,  and 
replied  to  Phyllidas  :  Pray,  sir,  did  ever  the  governors  send 
for  a  prisoner  at  such  a  time  before  ]  Or  ever  by  you  ? 
What  warrant  do  you  bring?  As  he  was  prating  thus, 
Phyllidas  ran  him  through,  —  a  base  fellow,  upon  whose 
carcass  the  next  day  many  women  spat  and  trampled.  We, 
breaking  open  the  prison  door,  first  called  out  Amphitheus 
by  name,  and  then  others,  as  every  one  had  a  mind ;  they, 
knowing  our  voice,  jocundly  leaped  out  of  their  straw  in 
which  they  lay,  with  their  chains  upon  their  legs.  The 
others  that  were  in  the  stocks  held  out  their  hands,  and 
begged  us  not  to  leave  them  behind.  These  being  set 


166 


A  DISCOURSE  CONCERNING 


free,  many  of  the  neighbors  came  in  to  us,  understanding 
and  rejoicing  for  what  was  done.  The  women  too,  as  soon 
as  they  were  acquainted  with  the  flying  report,  unmindful 
of  the  Boeotian  strictness,  ran  out  to  one  another,  and 
enquired  of  every  one  they  met  how  things  went.  Those 
that  found  their  fathers  or  their  husbands  followed  them  ; 
for  the  tears  and  prayers  of  the  modest  women  were  a  very 
great  incitement  to  all  they  met. 

34.  Our  affairs  being  in  this  condition,  understanding 
that  Epaminondas,  Gorgidas,  and  their  friends  were  draw¬ 
ing  into  a  body  about  Minerva’s  temple,  I  went  to  them. 
Many  honest  worthy  citizens  at  first  joined,  and  their  num¬ 
ber  continually  increased.  When  I  had  informed  them 
in  the  particulars  of  what  was  done,  and  desired  them  to 
march  into  the  market-place  to  assist  their  friends,  they 
proclaimed  liberty  ;  and  the  multitude  were  furnished  with 
arms  out  of  the  piazzas,  that  were  stuffed  with  spoil,  and 
the  neighboring  armorers’  shops.  Then  Hipposthenides 
with  his  friends  and  servants  appeared,  having  by  chance 
joined  the  trumpeters  that  were  coming  to  Thebes,  against 
the  feast  of  Hercules.  Straight  some  gave  the  alarm  in 
the  market-place,  others  in  other  parts  of  the  city,  distract¬ 
ing  their  enemies  on  all  sides,  as  if  the  whole  city  was  in 
arms.  Some,  lighting  smoky  fire,  concealed  themselves  in 
the  cloud  and  fled  to  the  castle,  drawing  to  them  the  select 
band  which  used  to  keep  guard  about  the  castle  all  night. 
The  garrison  of  the  castle,  when  these  poured  in  among 
them  scattered  and  in  disorder,  though  they  saw  us  all  in 
confusion,  and  knew  we  had  no  standing  compact  body, 
yet  would  not  venture  to  make  a  descent,  though  they  were 
above  five  thousand  strong.  They  were  really  afraid,  but 
pretended  they  dared  not  move  without  Lysanoridas’s  or¬ 
ders,  who,  contrary  to  his  usual  custom,  was  absent  from 
the  castle  that  day.  For  which  neglect,  the  Spartans  (as  I 
was  told),  having  got  Lysanoridas  into  their  hands,  fined 


SOCRATES’S  DAEMON. 


167 


him  heavily ;  and  having  taken  Hermippidas  and  Arcesus 
at  Corinth,  they  put  them  both  to  death  without  delay. 
And  surrendering  the  castle  to  us  upon  articles,  they 
marched  out  with  theh  garrison. 


I 


HOW  A  MAN  MAY  BE  SENSIBLE  OP  HIS  PROGRESS 

IN  VIRTUE. 


My  Friend  Sossius  Senecio, 

1.  Is  it  possible,  do  you  think,  that  all  the  arguments  in 
the  world  can  make  a  man  sensibly  assured  that  he  is  a 
proficient  in  virtue,  upon  this  supposition,  that  his  pro¬ 
ceedings  do  not  in  the  least  alleviate  and  abate  his  folly, 
but  that  the  vice  in  him,  weighing  in  equal  balance  against 
his  good  inclinations,  holds  him  down,  as 

Heavy  lead  pulls  down  the  yielding  net  1 

In  the'  study  of  music  or  grammar,  I  am  sure,  such  a 
conclusion  would  be  very  absurd ;  for  the  scholar  could 
never  be  certain  that  he  had  made  any  improvement  in 
those  sciences,  if  all  the  while  he  is  a  learning  he  did  not 
exhaust  by  little  and  little  his  former  ignorance  about  them, 
but  remained  during  the  whole  progress  of  his  application 
under  the  same  degree  of  unskilfulness  as  at  first  setting 
out. 

The  like  may  be  said  of  those  that  are  under  the  hands 
of  a  physician.  According  to  this  assertion,  if  the  patient 
take  physic  which  does  not  recruit  his  strength  or  give 
him  ease  by  abating  the  severity  of  the  distemper,  it  is 
absolutely  impossible  that  he  should  discern  any  alteration 
in  himself,  before  the  contrary  habit  is  perfectly  and  in  the 
highest  degree  induced,  and  his  body  thoroughly  sound  and 
well.  As  in  these  instances  you  cannot  say  the  persons 
have  advanced  any  thing,  so  long  as  they  perceive  no  sen- 


OF  MAN’S  PROGRESS  IN  VIRTUE. 


169 


sible  change  in  themselves  by  the  abatement  of  the  con¬ 
trary  weight,  and  do  not  find  that  their  minds  are  elevated, 
as  it  were,  in  the  opposite  scale ;  just  so,  in  truth,  is  it  with 
those  that  profess  philosophy.  They  cannot  be  assured  of 
any  progress  or  improvement,  if  the  soul  do  not  gradually 
advance  and  purge  off  the  rest  of  its  former  imperfections, 
but  still  lie  under  the  like  equal  pressure  and  grievance  of 
pure,  absolute,  unmixed  evil,  till  it  have  attained  the  state 
of  perfect,  supreme  good  ;  for  the  truth  of  it  is,  a  wise  man 
cannot  in  a  moment  of  time  change  from  the  lowest  degree 
of  vice  imaginable  to  the  most  heroic  perfection  of  virtue, 
if  he  only  make  a  brisk  attempt  to  throw  off  vice  all  at 
once,  and  do  not  constantly  and  resolutely  endeavor  by  little 
and  little  to  lighten  the  burthen  and  dispossess  the  evil 
habit  of  it. 

You  know  very  well  how  much  trouble  those  give  them¬ 
selves  who  maintain  this  assertion,  and  what  strange  ques¬ 
tions  they  raise  with  regard  to  it,  —  for  instance,  why  a  wise 
virtuous  man  should  never  perceive  how  he  became  such, 
but  should  either  be  quite  ignorant,  or  at  least  doubt,  that 
ever  by  little  and  little,  now  adding  something,  now  sub¬ 
tracting  and  removing  others,  he  advanced  to  the  aggre¬ 
gate  perfection  of  virtue.  Now  if  (as  they  affirm)  the 
change  from  bad  to  good  were  either  so  quick  and  sudden, 
as  that  he  that  was  extremely  vicious  in  the  morning  may 
become  eminently  virtuous  at  night,  or  that  any  one  going 
to  bed  wicked  might  chance  to  rise  a  virtuous  man  next 
morning,  and,  having  all  the  former  day’s  errors  and  im¬ 
perfections  absolutely  removed  out  of  his  mind,  might  say 
to  them,  as  it  is  in  the  poet. 

Vain  dreams !  farewell,  like  spectres  haste  away, 

At  the  new  light  of  virtue’s  glorious  day  ;  * 

do  you  think  that  any  one  in  the  world  could  be  ignorant 
of  so  extraordinary  a  conversion,  and  perfectly  sliut  his 

*  Eurip.  Iph.  Taur.  669. 


170 


OF  MAN’S  PROGRESS  IN  VIRTUE. 


eyes  upon  the  beams  of  virtue  and  wisdom  so  fully  and 
manifestly  breaking  in  upon  bis  soul?  In  my  opinion,  if 
any  person  should  have  Caeneus’s  foolish  wish,  and  be 
changed  (as  it  is  reported  he  was)  from  one  sex  to  the 
other,  it  is  more  probable  that  such  a  one  should  be  alto¬ 
gether  ignorant  of  the  metamorphosis,  than  that  any  should, 
from  a  lazy,  unthinking,  debauched  fellow,  commence  a 
wise,  prudent,  and  valiant  hero,  and  from  a  sottish  besti¬ 
ality  advance  to  the  perfection  of  divine  life,  and  yet  know 
nothing  at  all  of  the  change. 

2.  It  is  very  good  advice.  Measure  the  stone  by  your 
rule,  and  not  your  .rule  by  the  stone.  But  the  Stoics  have 
not  observed  it ;  for  they,  not  applying  principles  to  things,’ 
but  forcing  things  which  have  no  foundation  of  agreement 
in  nature  to  agree  to  their  principles,  have  filled  philosophy 
with  a  number  of  difficulties.  One  of  the  hardest  to  be 
solved  is  this,  that  all  men  whatsoever  (except,  him  who 
is  absolutely  perfect)  are  equally  vicious.  Hence  is  that 
enigma,  called  progress  or  proficiency,  which,  though  it  has 
puzzled  the  learned  to  solve,  is  in  my  opinion  very  foolish ; 
for  it  represents  those  that  have  advanced  a  little,  and  are 
partly  free  from  inordinate  passions  and  distempers  of  mind, 
to  be  as  unhappy  as  those  that  are  guilty  of  the  most  hei¬ 
nous  enormities.  And  indeed  the  assertion  is  so  absurd, 
that  their  own  actions  are  enough  to  confute  it ;  for  while 
they  maintain  in  their  schools  that  Aristides  and  Phalaris 
are  equally  unjust,  that  Brasidas  and  Dolon  are  equal  cow¬ 
ards,  and  that  Plato  and  Meletus  are  equally  senseless,  still 
in  all  affairs  of  life  they  seem  to  reject  and  avoid  the  latter 
of  these,  as  too  harsh  and  severe  to  be  softened  into  com¬ 
pliance,  but  credit  and  quote  the  former  in  all  their  writings, 
as  persons  of  extraordinary  worth  and  esteem.  This  is 
what  the  Stoics  assert. 

3.  But  we,  who  can  better  agree  with  Plato  in  this  point, 
finding  by  observation  that  in  all  kinds  of  evils,  especially 


OF  MAN’S  PROGRESS  IN  VIRTUE. 


171 


that  of  a  weak  and  unmanaged  disposition  of  mind,  there 
are  several  degrees  of  more  and  less  (for  herein  one  ad¬ 
vance  differs  from  another,  that  the  miserable  darkness 
which  the  soul  lies  under  begins  more  sensibly  to  abate, 
when  reason  by  little  and  little  illuminates  and  purges  the 
soul),  may  be  bold  to  affirm  that  the  change  from  bad  to 
good  is  very  easily  and  manifestly  discernible ;  not  as  if 
one  were  drawn  out  of  a  pit  on  a  sudden,  and  could  give 
no  account  of  the  degrees  of  the  ascent,  but  so  plain  that 
the  several  steps  and  advances  may  be  computed. 

The  first  argument  that  comes  in  my  mind  is  this,  by 
way  of  simile ;  pray  examine  it.  You  know  the  art  of 
navigation ;  when  the  seamen  hoist  sail  for  the  main  ocean,- 
they  give  judgment  of  their  voyage  by  observing  together 
the  space  of  time  and  the  force  of  the  wind  that  driveth 
them,  and  compute  that,  in  all  probability,  in  so  many 
months,  with  such  a  gale,  they  have  gone  forward  to  such 
or  such  a  place.  Just  so  it  is  in  the  study  of  philosophy; 
one  may,  if  he  mind  it,  give  a  probable  conjecture  of  a 
scholar  s  proceedings.  He  that  is  always  at  his  business, 
constantly  upon  the  road,  never  makes  any  steps  or  halts, 
nor  meets  with  obstacles  and  lets  in  the  way,  but  under 
the  conduct  of  right  reason  travels  smoothly,  securely,  and 
quietly  along,  may  be  assured  that  he  has  one  true  sign  of 
a  proficient.  This  of  the  poet. 

Add  many  lesser  numbers  in  account, 

Your  total  will  to  a  vast  sum  amount,* 

not  only  holds  true  as  to  the  increase  of  money,  but  also 
may  serve  as  a  rule  to  the  knowledge  of  the  advance  of 
every  thing  else,  especially  of  proficiency  in  virtue.  Eea- 
son,  besides  its  ordinary  influence,  requires  the  constancy 
of  application  and  address  which  is  necessary  and  usual 
in  all  other  affairs.  Whereas,  on  the  contrary,  the  irregu¬ 
lar  proceedings  and  inconsistent  silly  assertions  of  some 

*  Hesiod,  Works  and  Days,  361. 


172 


OF  MAN’S  PROGRESS  IN  VIRTUE. 


philosophers  do  not  only  lay  rubs  in  the  way,  and  break 
the  measures  of  a  virtuous  improvement,  but  seem  to  give 
great  advantage  to  vice,  during  their  lingering  and  idling 
upon  their  journey,  to  tempt  them  into  by-paths,  or  over 
persuade  them  to  return  whence  they  set  out. 

Astronomers  tell  us  that  planets,  after  they  have  finished 
their  progressive  motion,  for  some  small  time  acquiesce 
and  become  stationary,  as  they  term  it.  Now  in  the  study 
of  philosophy  it  is  not  so ;  there  is  no  point  of  rest  or  ac¬ 
quiescence  during  the  whole  procedure,  for  the  nature  of 
progress  is  to  be  always  advancing,  more  or  less.  The 
scales  in  which  our  actions  are,  as  it  were,  weighed  can¬ 
not  at  all  stand  in  equilibrio,  but  our  soul  is  continually 
either  raised  by  the  addition  of  good,  or  cast  with  the 
counterpoise  of  evil. 

Therefore,  as  the  oracle  told  the  Cirrhaeans  that  they 
ought  to  fight  continually,  day  and  night  ;  so  you  and 
every  wise  man  ought  to  be  perpetually  upon  your  guard, 
and  if  you  can  be  assured  that  you  maintain  a  constant 
combat  with  vice,  that  you  are  always  at  enmity  with  it 
and  never  so  much  as  come  to  terms,  or  receive  anv  diver- 
sions,  applications,  or  avocations,  as  so  many  heralds  from 
the  enemies’ camp,  in  order  to  a  treaty^ with  it;  then  you 
may,  with  a  great  deal  of  confidence  and  alacrity,  go  on 
with  the  management  of  your  warlike  expedition,  and  very 
reasonably  at  last  expect  a  conquest,  and  enjoy  a  crown  of 
righteousness  for  your  reward. 

4.  It  is  another  very  good  argument  to  prove  that  by 
labor  and  exercise  you  have  shaken  off  all  stupidity  and 
sluggishness  of  temper,  and  that  you  are  arrived  at  a 
perfection  of  virtue,  if  for  the  future  your  resolutions  be 
more  firm  and  your  application  more  intense  than  they  were 
when  you  first  set  out.  This  appears  true,  if  you  but  ob¬ 
serve  its  contrary ;  for  it  is  a  very  bad  sign  if,  after  a  small 
time  spent  in  trial,  you  find  many  and  repeated  intermis- 


OF  MAN’S  PROGRESS  IN  VIRTUE. 


173 


sions,  or  your  affections  yielding  or  cool  in  the  pursuit. 
This  may  be  illustrated  by  what  is  observable  in  the  growth 
of  a  cane.  At  first  it  appears  above  ground  with  a  full 
and  pleasing  sprout,  which  by  little  and  little,  taper-wise, 
by  a  continued  and  equal  distribution  of  matter,  rises  to  a 
very  great  height.  Towards  the  root  you  may  observe  that 
there  are  formed  certain  steps  and  joints,  which  are  at  a 
considerable  distance  from  one  another,  because  (there) 
the  juice  is  plentiful  and  strong.  But  toward  the  top  the 
nutrimentive  particles  vibrate  and  palpitate,  as  if  they  were 
quite  spent  with  the  length  of  their  journey,  and  there¬ 
upon,  you  see,  they  form  themselves  many  small,  weak,  and 
tender  joints,  as  so  many  supports  and  breathing- places. 
So  it  happens  with  those  that  study  philosophy :  at  first 
setting  out  they  take  long  steps  and  make  great  advances  ; 
but  if,  after  some  attempts,  they  perceive  not  in  themselves 
any  alteration  for  the  better,  but  meet  with  frequent  checks 
and  avocations  the  further  they  go,  ordinarily  they  faint, 
make  any  excuses  to  be  off  from  their  engagement, 
despond  of  ever  going  through  with  it,  and  thereupon 
proceed  no  farther.  But,  on  the  contrary,  he  that  is 
winged  with  desire  flies  at  the  proposed  advantage,  and  by 
a  stout  and  vigorous  pursuit  cuts  off  all  pretences  of 
delay  from  crowding  in  upon  him  or  hindering  his 
journey. 

In  love,  it  is  a  sign  the  passion  is  predominant,  if  the 
lover  be  not  only  pleased  in  the  enjoyment  of  the  beloved 
object  (for  that’s  ordinary),  but  also  troubled  and  grieved 
at  the  absence  of  it.  After  a  manner  not  unlike  this,  many 
youngsters  (as  I’ve  observed)  stand  affected  at  the  study  of 
philosophy.  At  first,  they  buckle  to  their  work  with  the 
greatest  concern  and  emulation  imaginable  ;  but  as  soon  as 
ever  they  are  diverted,  either  by  business  or  any  little  pre¬ 
tences,  the  heat  of  their  affection  immediately  flies  off,  and 
they  sit  down  ignorant  and  very  well  content.  But 


174 


OF  MAN’S  PROGRESS  IN  VIRTUl 


He  that  perceives  the  pleasing  sting  of  love, 

Whose  poignant  joy  his  trembling  heart  doth  move,* 

will  not  only  show  that  he  is  a  proficient  by  his  virtu¬ 
ous  demeanor  and  agreeableness  in  all  company  and 
discourse  ;  but  if  he  be  called  from  his  business,  you  may 
perceive  him  all  on  fire,  in  pain,  and  uneasy  in  whatsoever 
he  does,  whether  alone  or  in  company,  and  so  concerned 
that  he  is  unmindful  of  his  best  friends  till  he  is  restored 
to  the  quest  of  his  beloved  philosophy.  All  of  us  ought 
to  imitate  such  a  noble  example  in  all  our  studies.  We 
must  not  be  affected  with  good  discourse  only  while  we  are 
in  place,  as  we  are  with  rich  fragrant  perfumes  (which  we 
never  mind,  but  while  we  are  a  smelling  to  them) ;  but  if 
by  chance  marriage,  an  estate,  love,  or  a  campaign  take  us 
from  our  business,  we  must  still  hunger  and  thirst  after  vir¬ 
tue  ;  and  the  more  our  proficiency  is  advanced,  by  so  much 
the  more  ought  our  desire  to  know  what  we  have  not  at¬ 
tained  disquiet  and  excite  us  to  the  further  pursuit  and 
knowledge  of  it. 

5.  The  grave  account  which  Hesiod  gives  of  proficiency 
is,  in  my  judgment,  either  the  very  same,  or  comes  very 
near  to  this  which  I  have  now  set  down.  Proficiency  is 
(says  he)  when  all  difficulties  are  removed,  all  unevenness 
smoothed  and  cleared,  and  the  way  made  easy  and  passa¬ 
ble.  It  must  be  smoothed  by  frequent  exercise,  cleared  by 
beams  of  divine  light  that  guide  the  way  to  true  philoso¬ 
phy,  nothing  at  all  of  the  clouds  of  doubt,  error,  or 
inconstancy  in  good  resolutions  remaining,  which  are  as 
usually  incident  to  learners  in  their  first  attempts  upon 
philosophy,  as  distraction  and  solicitudes  are  to  those  who, 
sailing  from  a  known  land,  cannot  yet  discover  the  place 
whither  they  are  bound.  Thus  I  have  known  impatient 
sophisters  skip  over  common  and  ordinary  notions,  before 
they  have  learned  or  attained  better,  and  lose  themselves 

*  From  Sophocles,  Frag.  757. 


OF  MAN’S  PROGRESS  IN  VIRTUE. 


175 


in  the  middle  of  their  journey  in  so  troublesome  a  maze, 
that  they  would  be  willing  to  return  (if  they  could)  to 
their  primitive  state  of  quiet,  inactive  ignorance.  Sextius, 
a  nobleman  of  Home,  may  serve  for  an  instance  of  this. 
He  quitted  .all  offices  and  places  of  honor,  that  he  might 
more  freely  and  undisturbedly  apply  himself  to  the  study 
of  philosophy.  At  first  he  met  with  many  difficulties ;  and 
finding  himself  unable  to  encounter  or  conquer  them,  out 
of  very  despair  and  despondency,  he  had  thoughts  of 
throwing  himself  out  of  a  little  boat  into  the  river  Tiber. 
Parallel  to  this  is  a  merry  story  told  of  Diogenes  of  Sinope  ; 
when  he  first  put  on  his  gown,  it  happened  to  be  at  a  time 
when  the  Athenians  celebrated  a  festival  with  extraordinary 
banquets,  night-drinking,  sports,  and  pageantry  usual  at 
great  solemnities.  The  philosopher,  as  he  lay  in  the  holi¬ 
days  in  the  corner  of  the  street,  muffied  up  in  his  clothes, 
to  try  if  he  could  take  a  nap,  had  some  running  thoughts 
in  his  head,  which  checked  the  resolutions  he  had  taken  as 
to  a  philosophical  life,  and  troubled  him  extremely.  He 
reasoned  with  himself,  that  there  was  no  necessity  for  his 
entering  into  so  troublesome  and  singular  a  way  of  living, 
that  he  thereby  deprived  himself  of  all  the  sweets  and 
pleasui’es  of  life,  and  the  like.  While  he  was  thinking 
thus  with  himself,  he  espied  (as  the  story  goes)  a  mouse 
venturing  toward  him,  and  now  and  then  nibbling  at  a 
mouldy  crust  that  he  had  in  his  pouch.  This  sight  (which 
is  much)  turned  his  thoughts,  and  made  him  vexed  and 
troubled  at  himself  as  much  on  the  other  side.  What 
(says  he)  is  the  matter  with  thee,  Diogenes  ?  Thou  seest 
this  tiny  mouse  lives  well,  and  is  very  glad  of  thy  scraps  ; 
but  thou,  who  must  needs  be  a  person  of  quality,  forsooth, 
art  extremely  sorry  and  out  of  humor,  because  thou  dost 
not  feast  upon  down-beds,  and  canst  not  have  the  gen¬ 
teel  privilege  at  this  merry  time  to  be  drunk  as  well  as 
others. 


176 


OF  MAN’S  PROGRESS  IN  VIRTUE. 


Another  rational  argument  of  gradual  proficiency  is  when 
avocations  are  not  frequent  upon  us,  and  when  they  hap¬ 
pen,  very  short;  w^hile  the  substantial  rules  and  precepts  of. 
wisdom,  as  if  they  had  been  violently  driven  out,  presently 
return  upon  our  minds,  and  dispossess  all  empty  trouble 
and  disconsolate  thoughts. 

6.  And  because  scholars  do  not  only  fancy  to  themselves 
difficulties  big  enough  to  divert  their  weak  resolutions,  but 
also  often  meet  with  serious  persuasions  from  their  friends 
to  leave  their  studies,  and  because  sometimes  such  smart 
jests  and  drolls  are  put  upon  them  as  have  often  discour¬ 
aged,  frequently  quite  converted,  the  endeavors  of  some ;  it 
may  seem  to  you  a  very  good  argument  of  a  proficient,  if 
you  find  yourself  indifferent  and  unconcerned  in  that  point. 
As,  for  example,  not  to  be  cut  to,  the  heart  and  repine, 
when  you  are  told  that  such  and  such  persons  by  name, 
your  equals  once,  live  splendidly  at  court,  have  married 
great  fortunes,  or  have  appeared  publicly  at  the  head  of 
a  great  many  freeholders,  that  are  ready  to  vote  for  them 
for  some  great  office  or  representative’s  place.  He  that  is 
neither  discomposed  nor  very  much  affected  by  such  news 
as  this  is  manifestly  in  the  right,  and  has  philosophy  by  the 
surer  handle.  For  it  is  impossible  we  should  leave  admir¬ 
ing  things  which  most  men  esteem,  if  the  habit  of  virtue 
were  not  deeply  rooted  in  us.  To  avoid  passionately  what 
every  one  cries  down  may  be  in  some  persons  the  effect  of 
anger  and  ignorance  ;  but  utterly  to  despise  what  is  admired 
abroad  is  a  certain  sign  of  true  and  solid  wisdom  and 
resolution.  With  what  satisfaction  and  complacency  many 
persons  advanced  to  such  a  height  of  virtue  compare 
themselves  with  others,  and  break  out  in  these  verses  of 
Solon  ! 

We  will  not  change  Virtue’s  immortal  crown 
For  a  whole  mine  of  gold. 

Gold  is  uncertain  ;  but  what  we  possess 
Is  still  our  own,  and  never  can  be  less. 


OF  MAN’S  PROGRESS  IN  VIRTUE. 


177 


None  can  deny  but  that  it  was  very  great  in  Diogenes  to 
compare  his  shifting  from  the  city  of  Corinth  to  Athens, 
and  from  Thebes  to  Corinth,  to  the  king  of  Persia’s  taking 
his  progress  in  the  spring  to  Susa,  in  winter  to  Babylon, 
and  to  Media  in  summer.  Nor  was  it  an  argument  of  a 
much  less  spirit  in.Agesilaus,  who,  hearing  this  same  king 
of  Persia  styled  the  Great,  presently  asTed,  In  what  is  he 
greater  than  I,  if  he  be  not  juster  than  I  am  ?  Aristotle 
himself  had  exactly  such  notions  in  the  like  case  ;  for, 
writing  to  Antipater  about  his  scholar  Alexander,  he  says 
of  him,  that  he  ought  not  to  value  himself  in  this  respect, 
that  he  was  advanced  above  others  ;  for  whoever  had  a 
true  notion  of  God  was  really  as  great  as  he.  And  Zeno 
too  deserves  to  be  mentioned,  who,  hearing  Theophrastus 
commended  above  any  of  the  philosophers  for  his  number 
of  scholars,  put  it  off  thus :  His  choir  is  indeed  larger 
than  mine,  but  mine  has  the  sweeter  voices. 

7.  From  all  these  instances  you  may  collect  this  great 
truth,  that  whenever  you  do,  by  setting  the  comforts  of  vir¬ 
tue  and  the  difficulties  and  errors  of  study  one  against  the 
other,  perceive  that  you  have  utterly  expelled  all  emulation, 
jealousy,  and  every  thing  else  that  uses  to  disturb  or  dis¬ 
courage  young  men,  you  may  then  assuredly  conclude  with 
yourself  that  you  have  made  very  laudable  progress. 

Another  argument  of  proficiency  in  virtue  is  the  altera¬ 
tion  of  your  very  style  of  writing,  and  of  your  way  of 
managing  any  argument  or  discourse.  Most  of  those  that 
nowadays  design  for  scholars  (in  ordinary  speaking)  do 
prosecute  almost  none  but  popular  studies  ;  to  furnish  out 
discourse,  and  make  themselves,  as  the  phrase  is,  plausible 
men ;  some  few  of  them  there  are  who,  like  silly  larks, 
are  taken  with  the  glaring  light  of  natural  philosophy,  and, 
measuring  themselves  by  their  own  levity  and  conceit,  think 
they  are  able  presently  to  attain  the  height  of  that  science. 
Others  like  young  whelps  (’tis  Plato’s  simile)  love  to  snap 


178 


OF  MAN’S  PROGRESS  IN  VIRTUE. 


and  bite  at  one  another,  only  to  gratify  a  contentious,  scep¬ 
tical,  and  sophistical  humor,  which  they  at  first  got  by  bad 
tuition  and  ill-managed  studies.  Some  again,  as  soon  as 
ever  they  are  initiated  in  the  principles  of  logic,  presently 
commence  sophisters.  Others  spend  their  whole  time  in 
collecting  sentences  and  historical  narrations.  These  (as 
Anacharsis  said  of  the  Grecians,  that  he  saw  no  occasion 
they  had  for  money,  but  only  to  count  and  tell  it  over)  have 
nothing  at  all  to  do,  but  go  about  singing  and  repeating 
what  they  have  collected  into  commonplace  books,  with¬ 
out  any  other  benefit  or  satisfaction  from  their  labors.  To 
these  you  may  apply  that  of  Antiphanes,  which  one  ingen¬ 
iously  turned  to  Plato’s  scholars.  This  Antiphanes  said 
merrily,  that  in  a  certain  city  the  cold  was  so  intense  that 
words  were  congealed  as  soon  as  spoken,  but  that  after 
some  time  they  thawed  and  became  audible,  so  that  the 
words  spoken  in  winter  were  articulated  next  summer. 
Even  so,  the  many  excellent  precepts  of  Plato,  which  he 
instilled  into  the  tender  ears  of  his  scholars,  were  scarce 
perceived  and  distinguished  by  many  of  them,  till  they 
grew  men  and  attained  the  warm  vigorous  summer  of  their 
age. 

Such  a  cool  disposition  to  virtue  and  philosophy,  as  that 
philosopher  said  was  in  Plato’s  scholars  when  young,  often 
lasts  in  the  most  of  us  (as  was  hinted  before)  till  our  judg¬ 
ments  grow  to  a  solid  firmness  and  maturity,  and  we  begin 
to  value  those  precepts  that  are  able  to  beget  a  composure 
and  greatness  of  mind,  and  diligently  to  trace  and  follow 
those  discourses  and  precepts  whose  tracks  (as  it  is  in 
Aesop’s  fables)  rather  look  inward  than  outward,  to  our¬ 
selves  rather  than  others.  Sophocles  said  of  himself,  that 
in  writing  his  tragedies  he  first  of  all  abated  and  pricked 
the  tumor  of  Aeschylus’s  invention,  then  corrected  the 
harshness  and  over  artifice  of  his  composition,  and,  last 
of  all,  changed  his  very  style  and  elocution,  the  thing 


OF  MAN’S  PROGRESS  IN  VIRTUE. 


179 


which  is  most  considerably  persuasive,  and  which  most  of 
all  conduces  to  good  manners.  Even  so,  young  students, 
when  they  pass  from  the  fulness  and  luxuriancy  of  panegy¬ 
ric  and  declamation  to  that  more  solid  part  of  philosophy 
that  regulates  manners  and  smooths  all  rugged  and  disor¬ 
derly  passions,  then  begin  really  to  attain  true  and  solid 
proficiency. 

8.  Hereupon  let  me  advise  you  this,  —  whenever  you 
read  the  writings  or  hear  the  orations  of  the  philosophers, 
attend  always  things  more  than  words,  and  be  not  taken 
with  what  is  curious  and  of  a  delicate  thread  and  context¬ 
ure,  more  than  that  which  is  strong,  nervous,  and  benefi¬ 
cial.  So  also,  in  perusing  poems  or  histories,  be  sure  that 
nothing  escape  you  that  is  appositely  said,  in  relation  to 
the  cultivating  of  manners  or  the  calming  turbulent,  im¬ 
moderate  passions ;  but  always  give  it  a  note,  and  make  it 
surely  your  own.  Simonides  said  that  a  student  in  philo¬ 
sophy  should  be  like  a  bee.  That  laborious  creature,  when 
it  is  amongst  flowers,  makes  it  its  business  industriously  to 
extract  the  yellow  honey  out  of  them  all ;  while  others 
care  and  seek  for  nothing  else  except  the  smell  and  the 
color.  So,  while  some  others  employ  their  time  in  reading 
the  poets  only  for  diversion,  or  for  the  wit  and  fancy  which 
usually  adorn  their  works,  you  (my  dear  friend)  like  a  bee 
amongst  a  swarm  of  drones,  observe  and  collect  what  is 
sweet,  palatable,  and  worthy  your  pains,  and  seem  already, 
by  your  constant  custom  and  application,  to  have  attained  a 
perfect  knowledge  of  what  is  eminently  good  and  proper. 

As  to  those  that  peruse  the  works  of  Plato  and  Xeno^ 
phon  only  for  the  style’s  sake,  and  do  cull  out  what  is 
elegant  and  Attic,  as  the  cream  and  flower  of  those  authors, 
pray  what  do  they  do  but  as  it  were  admire  the  fragrancy 
and  flavor  of  medicinal  drugs,  yet,  at  the  same  time, 
neither  understand  nor  enquire  after  their  healing  and 
purgative  qualities  ?  Whereas,  those  that  have  advanced 


180 


OF  MAN’S  PROGRESS  IN  VIRTUE. 


to  a  higher  degree  of  perfection  can  extract  benefit,  not 
only  from  philosophical  discourses,  but  also  from  every 
thing  they  see  or  do,  and  thence  draw  something  that  may 
be  proper  and  fit  for  their  purpose.  I  will  give  you  some 
examples  of  Aeschylus  and  other  very  eminent  men,  which 
may  be  very  pat  to  this  purpose.  Aeschylus  chanced  to 
be  a  spectator  at  the  Isthmian  games,  where  some  were 
engaged  at  sword  play ;  seeing  one  of  the  combatants 
■wounded,  and  observing  that  the  theatre  immediately  made 
a  great  shouting  and  hollowing  upon  it,  he  jogged  one 
Ion,  an  inhabitant  of  the  island  Chios,  who  sat  next  to 
him,  and  whispered  him  thus.  Do  you  see  what  exercise 
can  do]  He  that  is  wounded  holds  his  peace,  and  the 
spectators  cry  out. 

Brasidas,  the  Lacedaemonian  captain,  by  chance  caught 
a  mouse  among  some  dry  figs  ;  and,  being  bit  by  her,  let 
her  go,  with  this  exclamation.  By  Hercules !  there  is  no 
creature  so  little  or  so  weak,  that  it  cannot  preserve  its  life 
if  it  dares  but  defend  it 

Diogenes  may  serve  for  a  thousand  instances  ;  when  he 
saw  a  boy  drink  out  of  the  palm  of  his  hand,  he  threw 
away  his  dish,  which  he  used  to  carry  always  with  him 
in  his  wallet.  Thus  sedulity  and  application  have  a 
singular  virtue  to  make  us  knowing  and  able  to  extract 
motives  to  virtue  from  every  thing  that  we  meet  with. 

Nor  is  it  a  difficult  matter  to  attain  such  a  temper  of 
mind,  if  the  candidates  for  virtue  intermix  discourse  and 
reading  with  their  actions ;  not  only  “  exercising  them¬ 
selves  amidst  dangers  ”  (as  Thucydides  *  said  to  some),  but 
also  engaging  pleasures,  disputing  hard  questions,  examin¬ 
ing  precedents,  pleading  causes,  and  so  (to  try  themselves 
thoroughly)  undertaking  some  magistracy  or  public  office, 
giving  thereby  demonstration  of  their  opinions  and  resolu¬ 
tion,  or  rather  establishing  their  resolution  by  exercise. 


*  Thucyd.  1.  18. 


OF  MAN’S  PROGRESS  IN  VIRTUE.  181 

» 

Whereas,  those  that  are  not  bred  to  it,  but  like  novices  spy 
out  and  catch  at  any  thing  that  is  curious  in  books,  and 
pragmatically  run  away  with  it  either  to  the  Exchange, 
the  College,  or  some  club  or  tavern,  deserve  no  more  the 
name  of  philosophers,  than  those  quacks  that  only  truck 
otf  vile  drugs  and  potions  merit  the  character  and  value 
of  physicians.  Those  sophisters  seem  to  me  not  unlike 
the  bird  mentioned  in  Homer,  and  to  have  something  of 
its  quality.  Whatsoever  they  catch  abroad  they  presently 
bring  home  with  them,  and  cram  it  into  their  unfledged 
chicks,  their  illiterate  scholars,  starving  their  own  empty 
crops  the  while,  as  the  poet  has  it ;  for  they  neither  digest 
nor  convert  what  thev  take  into  true  nourishment. 

9.  It  is  then  indispensably  our  duty  so  to  manage  our 
discourse,  that  it  may  be  beneficial  both  to  ourselves  and 
others,  we  not  incurring  the  censure  of  being  thought 
vain-glorious  or  arrogant  by  any ;  to  be  always  readier  to 
hear  than  to  teach ;  and,  especially,  so  to  abate  and  mod¬ 
erate  all  vehemency  and  passionate  quarrelling  about  triv¬ 
ial  questions,  as  that  we  may  cease  to  attend  and  manage 
disputations  with  the  same  indifferency  as  you  may  have 
seen  some  exercise  hurlbats  and  cudgelling,  —  that  is,  so 
as  to  leave  the  stage  with  more  satisfaction  for  having  had 
a  true  hit  or  coming  off  conqueror,  than  for  having  either 
learned  ourselves  or  taught  our  antagonist  any  manner  of 
skill  by  the  engagement. 

An  evenness  and  mildness  of  temper  in  all  such  affairs, 
which  never  will  suffer  us  to  enter  the  lists  with  vehe¬ 
mency  and  passion,  nor  to  be  hot  and  concerned  in  settling 
an  argument,  nor  to  scold  and  give  bad  words  when  we 
have  vanquished  our  adversary,  nor  to  be' very  much  de¬ 
jected  if  we  chance  to  be  quite  baffled,  is  (I  think)  a  true 
sign  of  a  great  proficient  in  virtue.  Aristippus  was  a 
great  example  of  this ;  for  when  in  a  set  disputation  he 
was  baffled  by  the  sophistry  and  forehead  of  an  impudent, 


182 


OF  MAN’S  PROGRESS  IN  VIRTUE.  ’ 


wild,  and  ignorant  disputant,  and  observed  him  to  be 
flushed  and  high  with  the  conquest;  Well!  says  the 
philosopher,  I  am  certain,  I  shall  sleep  quieter  to-night 
than  my  antagonist. 

Not  only  upon  the  close  and  event  of  our  philosophical 
contests,  but  even  in  the  midst  of  disputation,  we  may 
(privately)  take  an  estimate  of  this  good  quality  in  us, 
which  is  a  sign  of  a  true  proficient ;  for  example,  if,  upon 
a  greater  appearance  of  auditors  than  was  expected,  we 
be  not  afraid  nor  in  confusion ;  if,  at  the  thinness  of  the 
congregation,  when  there  are  but  a  few  to  hear  us,  we  be 
not  dejected  and  troubled ;  and  lastly,  if,  when  we  are  to 
speak  before  a  numerous  or  honorable  assembly,  we  do 
not,  for  want  of  fitting  preparation,  miss  the  opportunity 
for  ever. 

It  is  reported  that  two  as  famous  orators  as  ever  were, 
Demosthenes  and  Alcibiades,  were  somewhat  weak  and 
faulty  in  this  point.  The  timorousness  of  the  former  is 
known  to  every  school-boy ;  and  as  for  Alcibiades,  though 
he  was  (as  must  be  confessed)  as  sagacious  and  happy  in 
his  thoughts  as  any  man  whatever,  yet,  for  want  of  a  little 
assurance  in  speaking  a  thing,  he  very  often  miserably  lost 
himself  in  his  pleadings ;  for  he  would  falter  and  make 
pauses  in  the  very  middle  of  his  orations,  purely  for  want 
of  a  single  word  or  some  neat  expression,  that  he  had  in 
his  papers  but  could  not  presently  remember.  To  give 
you  another  instance  of  the  prince  of  poets,  Homer ;  he 
was  so  blinded  with  an  over-confidence  of  his  abilities  in 
poetry,  that  he  has  slipped  a  false  quantity,  and  left  it  on 
record,  in  the  very  first  verse  of  his  Iliads. 

Seeing  then  the  learnedest  men  and  greatest  artists  have 
failed  and  may  fail  for  want  of  caution  or  confidence,  it 
ought  more  nearly  to  concern  those  that  earnestly  follow 
virtue,  not  to  slip  the  least  opportunity  of  improvement, 
either  by  company  or  otherwise  ;  and  not  overmuch  to 


OF  MAN’S  PROGRESS  IN  VIRTUE. 


183 


regard^  the  throng  or  applause  of  the  theatre,  when  they 
do  exercise  or  make  any  solemn  harangue. 

10.  Nor  is  it  enough  that  one  take  care  of  all  his  dis¬ 
courses  and  orations ;  but  he  ought  also  to  observe  that 
the  whole  tenor  of  his  actions  be  guided  by  profit  rather 
than  vain  pomp,  and  by  truth  rather  than  ostentation. 
For  if  a  passionate  lover  who  has  placed  his  affection 
upon  any  beloved  object  seeks  no  witnesses  to  attest  its 
sincerity,  but  has  such  an  eager  desire  when  alone  and  in 
private,  that,  like  a  covered  flame,  it  burns  more  vigor¬ 
ously  and  insensibly  for  being  shut  up  ;  much  more  ought 
a  moralist  and  a  philosopher  who  has  attained  both  the 
habit  and  exercise  of  virtue  sit  down  self-contented,  and 
applaud  himself  in  private,  neither  needing  nor  desiring 
encomiasts  or  auditors  from  abroad. 

There  is  an  humor  in  some  of  the  poets,  of  an  old  peev¬ 
ish  housekeeper,  that  calls  to  his  maid  aloud :  Do  you  see, 
Dionysia  (that  is  his  maid’s  name),  I  am  now  pleased,  and 
have  laid  by  all  choler  and  passion.  Just  such  like  is  the 
practice  of  some,  who,  as  soon  as  they  have  done  any  thing 
which  is  obliging  and  civil,  presently  blaze  it  abroad,  and 
turn  their  own  heralds.  Such  men  show  plainly  that  they 
look  beyond  themselves  for  satisfaction  ;  that  they  are  de¬ 
sirous  of  praise  and  applause ;  and  that  they  never  were 
admitted  near  spectators  of  virtue,  never  saw  her  in  her 
noble,  royal  dress,  but  only  had  some  transient  sight  of  her 
in  a  dream  or  an  empty  airy  phantasm ;  and  indeed,  that 
they  expose  their  actions  to  the  public,  as  painters  do  their 
pictures,  to  be  gazed  at  and  admhed  by  the  gaping  multi¬ 
tude. 

Another  sign  of  a  proficient  in  virtue  is,  when  the  pro¬ 
ficient  has  given  any  thing  to  his  friend  or  done  any  kind¬ 
ness  for  any  one,  if  he  keeps  it  to  himself  and  does  not 
blab  it  to  anybody ;  and  (which  is  more)  if  he  hath  voted 
right  against  a  majority  of  biassed  suffragans,  withstood 


184 


OF  MAN’S  PROGRESS  IN  VIRTUE. 


the  dishonest  attempts  of  some  rich  and  powerful  man, 
generously  rejected  bribes  when  offered,  abstained  from 
inordinate  drinking  when  athu'st  and  alone,  or  at  night, 
when  none  sees  or  knows  what  he  does,  lastly,  if  he  hath 
conquered  the  briskest  attempts  of  love  (as  is  said  of 
Agesilaus)  ;  if  (I  say)  he  contain  himself  from  speaking 
of  such  actions,  and  do  not  in  company  boast  of  his  per¬ 
formances.  This  I  affirm,  —  such  a  one  as  can  prove  and 
try  himself  by  himself,  and  be  fully  satisfied  in  the  verdict 
of  his  conscience,  as  of  an  unexceptionable  witness  and 
spectator  of  what  is  right  and  good,  shows  plainly  that 
his  reason  looks  inward  and  is  well  rooted  within  him,  and 
that  the  man  (as  Democritus  said)  is  accustomed  to  take 
satisfaction  from  himself. 

To  borrow  a  simile  from  husbandmen  and  those  that  are 
concerned  in  the  business  of  the  fields,  they  are  always 
best  pleased  to  see  those  ears  of  corn  which  decline  and 
by  reason  of  their  fulness  bend  downwards  to  the  earth, 
but  look  upon  those  as  empty,  deceitful,  and  insignificant, 
which,  because  they  have  nothing  in  them,  grow  bolt  up¬ 
right  and  appear  above  the  rest.  So  it  is  amongst  students 
in  philosophy ;  those  that  are  most  empty-headed,  and 
have  least  firmness  and  solidity,  have  always  the  greatest 
share  of  confidence,  formality,  and  stiffness  in  their  ad¬ 
dress,  look  biggest,  walk  with  the  most  state,  and  top  upon 
and  condemn  others,  with  the  highest  arrogance  and  se¬ 
verity  of  any  living.  But  when  once  their  brains  begin  to 
fill  and  become  well  poised  with  solid  notions,  they  look 
down  into  themselves,  and  quite  lay  aside  that  insolent  and 
arrogant  humor,  which  is  proper  only  to  youngsters. 

Give  me  leave  to  illustrate  this  by  one  simile  more. 
When  you  pour  water  into  bottles  or  any  other  vessels, 
upon  its  being  instilled  into  them,  the  air  that  was  in  them 
before  presently  flies  out  and  gives  place  to  the  more  sub¬ 
stantial  body.  Even  so  it  is  with  those  that  have  had  many 


OF  MAN’S  PROGRESS  IN  VIRTUE. 


185 


good  precepts  instilled  into  them,  and  their  minds  replen¬ 
ished  with  solid  truths.  They  presently  find  that  all  empty 
vanity  flies  off ;  that  the  imposthume  of  pride  breaks  ;  that 
they  do  not  value  themselves  for  beard  and  goAvn  only,  but 
bend  their  actions  and  endeavors  to  the  bettering  of  their 
rational  faculties  ;  and,  lastly,  that  when  they  reprove  they 
begin  at  home,  turning  the  edge  of  their  satire  and  invec¬ 
tive  upon  themselves,  even  when  at  the  same  time  they  are 
civil  and  complaisant  to  all  others  beside.  It  is  indeed  an 
argument  of  a  generous  and  truly  brave  disposition  in  a 
scholar,  not  to  assume  the  name  and  character  of  one,  and, 
as  some  use  to  do,  to  put  the  philosopher  amongst  his 
titles ;  but  if  any  out  of  respect  chance  to  give  him  that 
compellation,  to  be  surprised,  blush,  and  with  a  modest 
smile  answer  him  in  that  of  the  poet. 

You  compliment  your  friend ;  he  whom  you  so  commend 

Must  needs  be  more  than  man,  — far  more  than  I  pretend.* 

Aeschylus  says  of  a  young  woman  that,  if  ever  she  have 
played  the  wanton,  you  may  discover  it  in  her  eyes,  and 
read  her  affections  in  amorous  glances  which  she  cannot 
conceal ;  so  a  young  scholar,  if  he  be  once  entered  in 
the  mysteries  and  have  tasted  the  sweets  of  philosophy, 
cannot  possibly  suppress  the  passion  and  concern  for  it ; 
as  Sappho  says,  his  tongue  falters  when  he  would  speak 
its  praise  ;  his  heart  is  warm  with  affection  ; 

A  secret  flame  does  run  through  every  part. 

You  would  admire  and  love  the  assurance  and  compos¬ 
edness  of  his  looks,  the  affectionateness  of  his  eyes,  and 
especially  the  winning  decency  and  agreeableness  of  his 
words  and  expressions. 

Those  that  are  to  be  initiated  in  the  ceremonies  of  the 
Gods  run  to  their  temples  at  first  with  a  great  deal  of 
noise,  clamor,  and  rudeness ;  but  as  soon  as  the  solemnity 


*  Odyss.  XVI.  187. 


186 


OF  MAN’S  PROGRESS  IN  VIRTUE. 


is  seen  and  over,  they  attend  with  a  profound  silence  and 
religious  fear.  So  it  is  with  the  candidates  in  philosophy  ; 
you  may  perceive  a  throng,  noise,  and  pother  about  the 
school-doors,  by  reason  that  several  press  thither  eagerly, 
rudely,  and  violently  for  reputation,  more  than  learning ; 
but  when  you  are  once  in,  and  manifestly  see  the  great 
light,  as  if  some  royal  shrine  were  opened  unto  you,  you 
are  presently  possessed  with  a  quite  different  notion  of 
things  ;  are  struck  with  silence  and  admiration,  and  begin, 
with  humility  and  a  reverend  composure,  to  comply  with 
and  follow  the  divine  oracle.  That  which  Menedemus 
said  in  another  case  is  very  apposite  to  this  sort  of  men. 
Those  that  went  to  the  school  of  Athens  were  first  of 
all  (aocpol)  wise^  next  (cf  iloaocpoi')  lovers  of  wisdom^  then  ora¬ 
tors,  and  at  last,  in  course  of  time,  plain  common  men ; 
for  the  longer  they  applied  themselves  to  study  and  phi¬ 
losophy,  so  much  the  more  all  vanity,  pride,  and  pedantry 
abated  in  them,  and  the  nearer  they  came  to  plain,  down¬ 
right,  honest  men. 

11.  Again,  as  it  is  with  those  that  are  indisposed  and 
out  of  order,  —  some,  if  a  tooth  or  finger  do  but  ache, 
presently  run  to  a  physician ;  others  send  for  one  to  their 
houses,  if  they  find  themselves  but  the  least  feverish  and 
desire  his  advice  and  assistance  ;  but  those  that  are  either 
melancholical,  or  but  any  ways  crazed  in  their  heads,  can¬ 
not  endure  so  much  as  the  looks  of  a  physician,  but  either 
keep  out  of  sight  when  he  comes  or  command  him  to  be 
gone,  being  altogether  insensible  of  their  condition,  — 
so,  in  persons  that  commit  any  heinous  crime  or  fall  into 
any  error,  I  look  upon  those  as  perfectly  incurable,  who 
take  it  ill  to  be  admonished  of  their  fault  and  look  upon 
reproof  and  admonition  as  the  greatest  rudeness  and  inci¬ 
vility  in  the  world,  whereas  those  that  can  quietly  hearken 
and  submit  to  the  advice  of  friends  and  superiors  deserve 
a  more  favorable  opinion,  and  may  be  thought  to  be  of  a 


OF  MAN’S  PROGRESS  IN  VIRTUE. 


187 


much  better  disposition.  But  the  greatest  character  of 
hopeful  men,  and  such  as  may  be  probably  excellent  pro¬ 
ficients  in  time,  belongs  to  those  who,  upon  a  commission 
of  a  fault,  immediately  apply  themselves  to  such  as  will 
reprove  and  correct  them ;  who  plainly  disclose  their  grief 
and  open  their  malady ;  who  do  not  rejoice  in  concealing 
their  distemper,  and  are  not  content  to  have  their  troubles 
unknown  ;  lastly,  who  make  a  full  confession  of  what  they 
have  done  amiss,  and  desire  the  help  of  a  friend  to  ex¬ 
amine  and  direct  them  for  the  future.  Diogenes,  I  am 
sure,  was  of  this  opinion.  He  said,  that  whosoever  would 
be  certainly  and  constantly  in  the  right  must  get  either  a 
virtuous  good  friend  or  an  incensed  ill-natured  enemy  to 
his  monitor ;  the  one  by  gentle  admonition  to  reprove  and 
persuade  him,  the  other  to  work  upon  him  by  severity,  and 
awe  him  into  a  virtuous  course  of  life. 

There  is  a  sort  of  men  in  the  world,  that  are  so  vain  and 
foolish  as  to  take  a  pride  in  being  the  first  discoverers  of 
their  own  imperfections  ;  if  they  have  but  a  rent  or  spot 
in  their  clothes,  or  have  got  a  torn  pair  of  shoes  on,  they 
are  the  most  forward  of  any  to  tell  it  in  company  ;  and 
(which  is  more)  they  are  very  apt,  out  of  a  silly,  empty, 
arrogant  humor,  to  make  themselves  the  subject  of  their 
drollery,  if  they  are  of  a  dwarfish  stature  or  any  way  de¬ 
formed  ;  yet  (which  is  strange)  these  very  men,  at  the  very 
same  time,  endeavor  to  excuse  and  palliate  the  internal  im¬ 
perfections  of  the,  mind  and  the  more  ugly  deformities  of 
the  soul,  as  envy,  evil-custom,  detraction,  voluptuousness, 
&c.,  and  will  not  suffer  any  one  either  to  see  or  probe  them. 
These  are,  as  it  were,  so  many  sore  places,  and  they  cannot 
endure  to  have  them  touched  and  meddled  with.  Such 
men  as  these  (I  may  be  bold  to  say)  have  very  few  signs 
of  proficiency,  or  rather  none  at  all. 

Now,  on  the  contrary,  he  that  examines  his  own  failings 
with  the  greatest  severity,  that  impartially  blames  or  cor- 


188 


OF  MAN’S  PROGRESS  IN  VIRTUE. 


rects  himself  as  often  as  he  does  amiss,  or  (which  is  almost 
as  commendable)  grows  firmer  and  better  by  present  ad¬ 
vice,  as  well  as  more  able  and  ready  to  endure  a  repri¬ 
mand  for  the  future,  seems  to  me  truly  and  sincerely  to 
have  rejected  and  forsaken  vice.  \ 

It  is  certainly  our  duty  to  avoid  all  appearance  of  evil, 
and  to  be  ashamed  to  give  occasion  even  to  be  reputed 
vicious ;  yet  evil  reports  are  so  inconsiderable  to  a  wise 
man,  that,  if  he  have  a  greater  aversion  to  the  nature  of 
evil  than  to  the  infamy  that  attends  it,  he  will  not  fear  what 
is  said  of  him  abroad,  nor  what  calumnies  are  raised,  if  so 
be  he  be  made  the  better  by  them.  It  was  handsomely 
said  of  Diogenes,  when  he  saAv  a  young  spark  coming  out 
of  a  tavern,  who  at  the  sight  of  him  drew  back :  Do  not 
retire,  says  he,  for  the  more  you  go  backward,  the  more 
you  will  be  in  the  tavern.  Even  so  every  vicious  person, 
the  more  he  denies  and  palliates  vice,  the  more  aggravates 
and  confirms  it,  and  with  surer  footing  goes  farther  into 
wickedness  ;  like  some  persons  of  ordinary  rank  and  quality, 
who,  while  they  assume  above  themselves,  and  out  of  arro¬ 
gance  would  be  thought  rich,  are  made  really  poor  and 
necessitous,  by  pretending  to  be  otherwise. 

Hippocrates,  a  man  of  wonderful  skill  in  physic,  was 
very  ingenuous  in  this  point,  and  fit  to  be  imitated  by  the 
greatest  proficients  in  philosophy.  He  confessed  publicly, 
that  he  had  mistaken  the  nature  of  the  sutures  in  the  skull, 
and  has  left  an  acknowledgment  of  his  ignorance  upon 
record,  under  his  own  hand  ;  for  he  thought  it  very  un¬ 
worthy  a  man  of  his  profession  not  to  discover  where  he 
was  in  the  wrong,  seeing  others  might  suffer  and  err  by 
his  authority.  And,  indeed,  it  had  been  very  unreasona¬ 
ble,  if  he,  ’whose  business  and  concern  it  was  to  save  others 
and  to  set  them  right,  should  not  have  had  the  courage  to 
cure  himself,  and  to  discover  his  weakness  and  imperfec¬ 
tions  in  his  own  faculty. 


OF  MAN’S  PROGRESS  IN  VIRTUE. 


189 


Pyrrlion  and  Bion  ^two  ©niiiiGiit  pliilosopliGrs)  havG  givGU 
rulGS  of  proficiGncy ;  but  thGy  sggiu  rathGr  signs  of  a  com- 
plotG  habit  of  virtuG,  than  a  progrGSsivG  disposition  to  it. 
Bion  told  his  friond,  that  thoy  thon  might  bo  assurod.of 
thoir  proficiGncy,  when  they  could  endure  a  reproof  from 
anybody  with  the  same  indifferency  and  unconcernedness 
as  they  could  hear  the  highest  encomiums,  even  such  a 
one  as  this  of  the  poet : 

Sir, 

Some  heavenly  flame  inspires  your  breast ; 

Live  great,  rejoice,  and  be  for  ever  blest  * 

The  other,  to  wit,  Pyrrhon,  being  at  sea  and  in  great 
danger,  by  reason  of  a  tempest  that  arose,  took  paiticular 
notice  (as  the  story  goes)  of  a  hog  that  was  on  board, 
which  all  the  while  very  unconcernedly  fed  upon  some  corn 
which  lay  scattered  about ;  he  showed  it  to  his  companions, 
and  told  them  that  they  ought  to  acquire  by  reading  and 
philosophy  such  an  apathy  and  unconcernedness  ,in  all 
accidents  and  dangers  as  they  saw  that  poor  creature  nat¬ 
urally  have. 

12.  The  opinion  which  is  said  to  be  Zeno’s  may  deserve 
our  consideration.  He  said  that  any  one  might  give  a 
guess  at  his  proficiency  from  the  observation  of  his  dreams, 
if  when  asleep  he  fancied  nothing  that  was  immodest,  nor 
seemed  to  consent  to  any  wicked  actions  or  dishonest  in¬ 
tentions,  but  found  his  fancy  and  passions  of  his  mind 
undisturbed,  in  a  constant  calm,  as  it  were,  always  seiene, 
and  enlightened  with  the  beams  of  divine  reason.  This 
very  notion  was  hinted  by  Plato  *1*  (as  I  interpret  his  woids), 
where  he  is  describing  and  delineating  the  soul  which  is 
tvrannical  in  its  nature,  and  showing  what  manner  of  oper¬ 
ations  its  fantasy  and  irrational  appetite  exert.  When  a 
man  is  asleep,  he  says,  a  vicious  person  designs  the  satisfy¬ 
ing  incestuous  lust,  has  a  longing  for  all  sorts  of  meat  in- 

#  Odyss.  VI.  187 ;  XXIV.  402.  t  Republic,  IX.  p.  571  C- 


190 


OF  MAN’S  PROGRESS  IN  VIRTUE. 


differently,  whether  allowed  or  prohibited,  and  satisfies  his 
appetite  and  desire  in  all  manner  of  intemperance  which 
is  loose  and  unregarded,  which,  in  the  day-time,  either  the 
laws  shame  him  out  of,  or  fear  to  offend  restrains: 

As  now  those  brute  beasts  that  are  accustomed  to  labor 
will  not,  if  the  reins  be  let  loose,  either  turn  aside  or  offer 
to  leave  the  track  or  stumble  in  it,  so  it  is  with  the  brutal 
faculty  of  the  mind ;  when  it  is  once  made  tame  and  man¬ 
ageable  by  the  strength  of  reason,  then  it  is  unwilling  care¬ 
lessly  to  transgress  or  saucily  to  disobey  its  sovereign’s 
commands  or  to  comply  with  any  inordinate  lusts,  either 
in  sleep  or  sickness  ;  but  it  carefully  observes  and  main¬ 
tains  its  dictates  to  which  it  is  accustomed,  and  by  fre¬ 
quent  exercise  advances  to  perfect  strength  and  intention 
of  virtue. 

We  find  even  in  our  own  nature  the  strange  effects  of 
custom.  Man  i^  naturally  able,  by  much  exercise  and  the 
use  of  a  stoical  apathy,  to  bring  the  body  and  all  its  mem¬ 
bers  into  subjection,  so  that  not  one  organ  shall  perform  its 
operation,  —  the  eyes  •shall  not  burst  out  with  tears  upon 
the  sight  of  a  lamentable  object,  the  heart  shall  not  palpi¬ 
tate  upon  the  apprehension  of  fear,  and  the  passions  shall 
not  be  roused  at  the  sight  of  any  beautiful  person,  whether 
man  or  woman.  Now  it  is  much  mure  probable  that  the 
faculties  of  the  sense  may  be  so  brought  in  subjection  by 
undergoing  such  exercise  as  we  speak  of,  that  all  its  imag¬ 
inations  and  motions  may  be  smoothed  and  made  agreeable 
to  right  reason,  even  when  we  are  asleep  and  keep  not  sen¬ 
try.  It  is  reported  of  Stilpo  the  philosopher,  that  he 
thought  he  saw  Neptune  in  his  sleep,  and  that  he  seemed 
very  much  displeased  with  him,  because  he  had  not  (as  was 
usual  with  his  priests)  sacrificed  an  ox  in  honor  of  him. 
Not  in  the  least  daunted  at  the  apparition,  he  thus  boldly 
accosted  it :  Neptune  !  what’s  this  business  you  here  com¬ 
plain  of'?  You  come  hither  like  a  child,  and  are  angry  with 


OF  MAN’S  PROGRESS  IN  VIRTUE. 


191 


me,  because  I  did  not  borrow  money  and  run  in  debt  to 
please  you,  and  fill  the  city  with  costly  odors,  but  privately 
sacrificed  to  you  in  my  own  house  such  ordinary  victims  as 
1  could  get.  At  this  confident  reply,  Neptune  smiled,  and 
(as  the  story  goes)  reached  him  his  hand,  as  an  assurance 
of  his  good-will  to  him,  and  told  him  that  for  his  sake  he 
would  send  the  Megarians  abundance  of  fish  that  season. 

In  the  main  we  may  conclude  thus  much,  that  those  that 
have  clear  and  pleasant  dreams,  and  are  not  troubled  with 
any  frightful,  strange,  vicious,  or  irregular  apparitions  in 
their  sleep,  may  assure  themselves  that  they  have  some 
indications  and  dawnings  of  proficiency ;  whereas,  on  the 
contrary,  those  dreams  which  are  mixed  with  any  pain, 
fear,  cowardly  aversions  from  good,  childish  exultation,  or 
silly  grief,  so  that  they  are  both  frightful  and  unaccount¬ 
able,  are  like  the  breaking  waves  or  the  billows  of  the 
sea  ;  for  the  soul,  not  having  attained  a  perfect  evenness  of 
temper,  but  being  under  the  formation  of  laws  and  precepts 
from  whose  guidance  and  discovery  it  is  free  in  time  of 
sleep,  is  then  slacked  from  its  usual  intenseness,  and  laid 
open  to  all  passions  whatever. 

Whether  this  temper  we  speak  of  be  an  argument  of 
proficiency,  or  an  indication  of  some  other  habit  which  has 
taken  deep  root  in  the  soul,  grown  strong  and  immovable 
by  all  the  power  of  reason,  I  leave  to  you  to  consider  and 
determine. 

13.  Seeing  then  an  absolute  apathy  or  freedom  from  all 
passions  whatsoever  is  a  great  and  divine  perfection,  and, 
withal,  considering  that  progress  seems  to  consist  in  a  cer¬ 
tain  remission  and  moderation  of  those  very  passions  we 
carry  about  us,  it  unavoidably  follows,  that  if  we  will  ob¬ 
serve  our  passions,  with  relation  to  one  another  and  also  to 
themselves,  we  may  easily  find  out  their  differences.  For 
example,  first,  we  may  observe  from  the  passions  compared 
with  themselves  whether  our  desires  be  now  more  mod- 


192 


OF  MAN’S  PROGRESS  IN  VIRTUE. 


erate  than  they  nsed  to  be,  fear  and  anger  less  and  more 
calm,  and  whether  or  no  we  are  more  able  to  quench  the 
heat  and  flame  of  our  passions  than  we  used  to  be. 

Secondly,  by  comparing  them  with  one  another,  we  may 
observe  whether  we  now  have  a  greater  share  of  shame 
than  of  fear,  whether  emulation  be  without  anv  mixture  of 
envy,  whether  we  have  greater  desire  of  glory  than  of 
riches,  whether  we  offend  (as  the  musicians  term  it)  in  the 
Dorian  or  base  or  in  the  Lydian  or  treble  notes,  —  that  is, 
whether  we  are  more  inured  to  abstinence'  and  hardship 
than  otherwise,  —  whether  we  are  unwilling  rather  than  » 
forward  to  appear  in  public,  and,  lastly,  whether  we  are 
undue  admirers  of  the  persons  or  performances  of  others, 
or  despisers  both  of  them  and  what  they  can  do. 

As  it  is  a  good  sign  of  recovery  of  a  sick  person  if  the 
distemper  lie  in  the  less  principal  parts  of  the  body ;  so  in 
proficiency,  if  vicious  habits  be  changed  into  more  toler¬ 
able  passions,  it  is  a  symptom  that  they  are  going  off  and 
ready  to  be  quenched.  Phrynis  the  musician,  to  his  seven 
strings  adding  two  more,  was  asked  by  the  magistrates, 
whether  he  had  rather  they  should  cut  the  upper  or  lower 
of  them,  the  base  or  treble.  Now  it  is  our  business  to  cut 
off  (as  it  were)  both  what  is  above  and  below,  if  we  would 
attain  to  the  true  medium  and  equality ;  for  proficiency  in 
the  first  place  remits  the  excess,  and  sweetens  the  harmony 
of  the  evil  affections,  which  is  (according  to  Sophocles) 

The  madman’s  greatest  pleasure  and  disease. 

•  14.  We  have  already  said  that  we  ought  to  transfer  our 

judgment  to  action,  and  not  to  suffer  our  words  to  remain 
bare  and  naked  words,  but  to  reduce  them  to  deeds ;  and 
that  this  is  the  chiefest  sign  of  a  proficient.  Now  another 
manifest  indication  is  a  desire  of  those  things  we  commend, 
and  a  readiness  to  perform  those  things  which  we  admire, 
but  whatsoever  we  discommend,  neither  to  will  or  endure 
it.  It  is  probable  that  all  the  Athenians  highly  extolled 


OF  MAN’S  PROGRESS  IN  VIRTUE. 


193 


the  courage  and  valor  of  Miltiades.  But  Themistocles 
(who  professed  that  the  trophies  of  Miltiades  broke  his 
sleep,  and  often  forced  him  out  of  his  bed)  did  not  only 
praise  and  admire  what  he  had  done,  but  was  manifestly 
struck  with  a  zeal  and  emulation  of  his  performances. 
Therefore  we  may  be  assured  that  we  have  profited  little, 
while  we  think  it  a  vanity  to  admire  those  that  have  done 
well,  and  cannot  possibly  be  raised  to  an  imitation  of 
them.  ^ 

To  love  the  person  of  any  man  is  not  sufficient,  except 
it  have  a  mixture  of  emulation ;  no  more  is  that  love  of 
virtue  ardent  and  exciting,  which  does  not  put  us  forward, 
and  create  in  our  breasts  (instead  of  envy  to  them)  a  zeal¬ 
ous  affection  for  all  good  men,  and  a  desire  of  equal  per¬ 
fection  with  them.  For  it  is  not  enough  (as  Alcibiades 
was  wont  to  say)  that  the  heart  should  be  turned  upside 
down  by  hearing  the  discourses  of  a  philosopher,  and  that 
the  tears  should  gush  from  the  eyes  ;  but  he  that  is  a  pro¬ 
ficient  indeed,  comparing  himself  with  the  designs  and 
actions  of  a  good  perfect  man,  is  pricked  at  the  same  with 
the  consciousness  of  his  own  weakness,  and  transported 
with  hope  and  desire,  and  big  with  irresistible  assurance ; 
and  indeed  such  a  one  is  (as  Simonides  says)  like  a  little 
sucking  foal  running  by  the  mother’s  side,  and  desires  to 
be  incorporated  into  the  very  same  nature  with  a  good 
man.  For  this  is  an  especial  sign  of  true  proficiency,  to 
love  and  affect  their  way  of  life  whose  actions  we  emulate, 
and,  upon  account  of  an  honorable  opinion  we  always  en-  • 
tertain  for  them,  to  do  as  they  do.  But  whosoever  he  is 
that  entertains  a  contentious  or  malicious  design  against 
his  betters,  let  him  be  assured  that  he  is  possessed  with  a 
greedy  desire  of  honor  or  greatness,  but  has  neither  a 
true  respect  nor  admiration  for  virtue. 

15.  When  therefore  we  once  begin  so  to  love  good 
men,  as  not  only  (according  to  Plato)  to  esteem  the  wise 


194 


OF  MAN’S  PROGRESS  IN  VIRTUE. 


man  himself  happy,  and  him  who  hears  his  discourses 
sharer  in  his  felicity,  but  also  to  admire  and  love  his 
habit,  gait,  look,  and  very  smile,  so  as  to  wish  ourselves 
to  be  that  very  person,  then  we  may  be  assured  that  we 
have  made  very  good  proficiency. 

This  assurance  will  be  advanced,  if  we  do  not  only  ad¬ 
mire  good  men  in  prosperity,  but  like  lovers,  who  are 
taken  ever  with  the  lisping  and  pale  looks  of  their  mis¬ 
tresses  (as  Araspes  is  said  to  have  been  smitten  with  the 
tears  and  dejected  looks  of  a  mournful  and  afflicted  Pan- 
thea),  have  an  affection  for  virtue  in  its  most  mournful 
dress,  so  as  not  at  all  to  dread  the  banishment  of  Aris¬ 
tides,  the  imprisonment  of  Anaxagoras,  the  poverty  of 
Socrates,  nor  the  hard  fate  of  Phocion,  but  to  embrace  and 
respect  their  virtues,  even  under  such  injustice,  and  upon 
thoughts  of  it,  to  repeat  this  verse  of  Euripides,  — 

How  do  all  fortunes  decently  become 

A  generous,  well-tuned  soul ! 

This  is  certain,  if  any  one  addresses  himself  to  virtue 
with  this  resolution,  not  to  be  dejected  at  the  appearance 
of  difficulty,  but  heartily  admires  and  prosecutes  its  divine 
perfection,  none  of  the  evil  we  have  spoken  of  can  divert 
his  good  intentions.  To  what  I  have  said  I  may  add  this, 
that  when  we  go  upon  any  business,  undertake  any  office, 
or  chance  upon  any  affair  whatever,  we  must  set  before 
our  eyes  some  excellent  person,  either  alive  or  dead  ;  and 
consider  with  ourselves  what  Plato  for  the  purpose  would 
have  done  in  this  affair,  what  Epaminondas  would  have 
said,  how  Lycurgus  or  Agesilaus  would  have  behaved 
themselves,  that,  addressing  ourselves  and  adorning  our 
minus  at  these  mirrors,  we  may  correct  every  disagreeing 
word  and  irregular  passion.  It  is  commonly  said,  that 
those  that  have  got  by  heart  the  names  of  the  Idaei  Dac- 
tyli  make  use  of  them  as  charms  to  drive  away  fear,  if  they 
can  but  confidently  repeat  them  one  by  one ;  so  the  con- 


OF  MAN'S  PROGRESS  IN  VIRTUE. 


195 


sideration  and  remembrance  of  good  men,  being  present 
and  entertained  in  our  minds,  do  preserve  our  proficiency 
in  all  affections  and  doubts  regular  and  immovable  ;  where¬ 
fore  you  may  judge  that  this  is  also  a  token  of  a  profi¬ 
cient  in  virtue. 

16.  You  may  observe  further,  that  not  to  be  in  a  con¬ 
fusion,  not  to  blush,  not  to  hide  or  correct  your  clothes  or 
any  thing  about  you,  at  the  unexpected  appearance  of  an 

.  honorable  and  wise  person,  but  to  have  an  assurance  as  if 
you  were  often  conversant  with  such,  is  almost  a  perfect 
demonstration  of  a  very  intelligent  person. 

It  is  reported  of  Alexander,  that  one  night  seeing  a 
messenger  joyfully  running  towards  him  and  stretching 
out  his  hand,  as  if  he  had  something  to  deliver  to  him, 
he  said  to  the  apparition.  Friend,  what  news  do  you  bring 
me?  Is  Homer  risen  from  the  dead?  That  admirable 
monarch  thought  that  nothing  was  wanting  to  his  great 
exploits  but  such  a  herald  as  Flomer. 

Consider  this,  if  a  young  man  thrive  in  the  world,  it  is 
customary  for  him  to  desire  nothing  more  than  to  be  seen 
in  the  company  of  virtuous  and  good  men,  to  show  them 
his  whole  furniture,  his  table,  his  wife  and  children,  his 
study,  his  diary  or  collections  ;  and  he  is  so  pleased 
with  himself,  that  he  wishes  his  father  or  tutor  were  alive, 
that  they  might  see  him  in  so  good  a  way  of  living ;  and 
he  could  heartily  pray  that  they  were  alive,  to  be  specta¬ 
tors  of  his  life  and  actions.  But,  on  the  contrary,  those 
that  have  neglected  their  business,  or  lost  themselves  in 
the  world,  cannot  endure  the  sight  or  company  of  their 
relations  without  a  great  deal  of  fear  and  confusion. 

17.  Join  this,  if  you  please,  to  what  we  said  before; 
for  it  is  no  small  sign,  if  the  proficient  thus  esteem  every 
little  fault  a  great  one,  and  studiously  observe  and  avoid 
all.  For,  as  those  persons  who  despair  of  ever  being  rich 
make  little  account  of  small  expenses,  thinking  that  little 


196 


OF  MAN’S  PROGRESS  IN  VIRTUE. 


added  to  a  little  will  never  make  any  great  sum,  but  when 
they  come  once  to  have  got  a  competency,  and  hope  to  he 
at  last  very  rich,  it  advances  their  desires,  so  it  happens 
in  the  affairs  of  vu'tue  ;  —  he  that  does  not  quiet  his  mind 
by  saying  with  himself,  “  What  matters  it  what  comes 
after?  if  for  the  present  it  he  so  and  so,  yet  better  days 
will  come,”  but  who  attends  every  thing,  and  is  not  care¬ 
less  if  the  least  vice  pass  uncondemned,  but  is  troubled 
and  concerned  at  it,  such  a  one  makes  it  appear  that  he 
has  attained  something  that  is  pure,  which  he  brightens 
by  use  and  will  not  suffer  to  corrupt.  For  a  preconceived 
opinion  that  nothing  we  have  is  valuable  (according  to 
Aeschylus)  makes  us  careless  and  indifferent  about  every 
thing. 

If  any  one  be  to- make  a  dry  wall  or  an  ordinary  hedge, 
it  matters  not  much  if  he  makes  use  of  ordinary  wood 
or  common  stone,  any  old  gravestones,  or  the  like  ;  so 
wicked  persons,  who  confusedly  mix  and  blend  all  their 
designs  and  actions  in  one  heap,  care  not  what  materials 
they  put  together.  But  the  proficients  in  virtue,  who 
have  already  laid  the  golden  solid  foundation  of  a  vir¬ 
tuous  life,  as  of  a  sacred  and  royal  building,  take  especial 
care  of  the  whole  work,  examine  and  model  every  part 
of  it  according  to  the  rule  of  reason,  believing  that  it  was 
well  said  by  Polycletus,  that  the  hardest  work  remained 
for  them  to  do  whose  nails  must  touch  the  clay ;  —  that  is, 
to  lay  the  top  stone  is  the  great  business  and  masterpiece 
of  the  work.  The  last  stroke  gives  beauty  and  perfection 
to  the  whole  piece. 


i 


WHETHER  ’TWERE  RIGHTLY  SAID,  LIVE  CON-' 

CEALED. 


1.  It  is  sure,  he  that  said  it  had  no  mind  to  live  con¬ 
cealed,  for  he  spoke  it  out  of  a  design  of  being  taken 
notice  of  for  his  very  saying  it,  as  if  he  saw  deeper  into 
things  than  every  vulgar  eye,  and  of  purchasing  to  him¬ 
self  a  reputation,  how  unjustly  soever,  by  inveigling  others 
into  obscurity  and  retirement.  But  the  poet  says  right : 

I  Imte  the  man  who  makes  pretence  to  wit, 

Yet  in  his  own  concerns  waives  using  it.* 

For  they  tell  us  of  otie  Philoxenus  the  son  of  Eryxis, 
and  Gnatho  the  Sicilian,  who  were  so  over  greedy  after 
any  dainties  set  before  them,  that  they  would  blow  their 
nose  in  the  dish,  whereby,  turning  the  stomachs  of  the 
other  guests,  they  themselves  went  away  fuller  crammed 
with  the  rarities.  Thus  fares  it  with  all  those  whose  ap¬ 
petite  is  always  lusting  and  insatiate  after  glory.  They 
bespatter  the  repute  of  others,  as  their  rivals  in  honor, 
that  they  themselves  may  advance  smoothly  to  it  and 
without  a  rub.  They  do  like  watermen,  who  look  astern 
while  they  row  the  boat  ahead,  still  so  managing  the 
strokes  of  the  oar  that  the  vessel  may  make  on  to  its 
port.  So  these  men  who  recommend  to  us  such  kind  of 
precepts  row  hard  after  glory,  but  with  their  face  another 
way.  To  what  purpose  else  need  this  have  been  said  ?  — 
why  committed  to  writing  and  handed  down  to  posterity  ] 


*  From  Euripides,  Frag.  897. 


198 


WHETHER  ’TWERE  RIGHTLY  SAID, 


Would  he  live  incognito  to  his  contemporaries,  who  is  so 
eager  to  be  known  to  succeeding  ages  % 

2.  But  besides,  doth  not  the  thing  itself  sound  ill,  to 
bid  you  keep  all  your  lifetime  out  of  the  world’s  eye,  as 
if  you  had  rifled  the  sepulchres  of  the  dead,  or  done 
such  like  detestable  villany  which  you  should  hide  for  ? 
What !  is  it  grown  a  crime  to  live,  unless  you  can  keep  all 
others  from  knowing  you  do  so  ?  For  my  part,  I  should 
pronounce  that  even  an  ill-liver  ought  not  to  withdraw 
himself  from  the  converse  of  others.  No ;  let  him  be 
known,  let  him  be  reclaimed,  let  him  repent ;  so  that,  if 
you  have  any  stock  of  virtue,  let  it  not  lie  unemployed,  or 
if  you  have  been  viciously  bent,  do  not  by  flying  the  means 
continue  unreclaimed  and  uncured.  Point  me  out  there¬ 
fore  and  distinguish  me  the  man  to  whom  you  adopt  this 
admonition.  If  to  one  devoid  of  sense,  goodness,  or  wit, 
it  is  like  one  that  should  caution  a  person  under  a  fever  or 
raving  madness  not  to  let  it  be  known  where  he  is,  for  fear 
the  physicians  should  find  him,  but  rather  to  skulk  in 
some  dark  corner,  where  he  and  his  diseases  may  escape 
■  discovery.  So  you  who  labor  under  that  pernicious,  that 
scarce  curable  disease,  wickedness,  are  by  parity  of  reason 
bid  to  conceal  your  vices,  your  envyings,  your  superstitions, 
like  some  disorderly  or  feverous  pulse,  for  fear  of  falling 
into  the  hands  of  them  who  might  prescribe  well  to  you 
and  set  you  to  rights  again.  Whereas,  alas  !  in  the  days 
of  remote  antiquity,  men  exhibited  the  sick  to  public  view, 
when  every  charitable  passenger  who  had  labored  himself 
under  the  like  malady,  or  had  experienced  a  remedy  on  them 
that  did,  communicated  to  the  diseased  all  the  receipts  he 
knew  ;  thus,  say  they,  skill  in  physic  was  patched  up  by 
multiplied  experiments,  and  grew  to  a  mighty  art.  At  the 
same  rate  ought  all  the  infirmities  of  a  dissolute  life,  all 
the  irregular  passions  of  the  soul,  to  be  laid  open  to  the 
view  of  all,  and  undergo  the  touch  of  every  skilful  hand, 


LIVE  CONCEALED. 


199 


that  all  who  examine  into  the  temper  may  he  able  to 
prescribe  accordingly.  For  instance,  doth  anger  trans¬ 
port  you '?  The  advice  in  that  case  is,  Shun  the  occasions 
of  it.  Doth  jealousy  torment  yen'?  Take  this  or  that 
course.  Art  thou  love-sick?  It  hath  been  my  own  case 
and  infirmity  to  be  so  too ;  but  I  saw  the  folly  of  it,  I  re¬ 
pented,  I  grew  wiser.  But  for  those  that  lie,  denying, 
hiding,  mincing,  and  palliating  their  vices,  it  makes  them 
but  take  the  deeper  dye,  it  rivets  their  faults  into  them. 

3.  Again,  if  on  the  other  hand  this  advice  be  calculated 
for  the  owners  of  worth  and  virtue,  if  they  must  be  con¬ 
demned  to  privacy  and  live  unknown  to  the  world,  you  do 
in  effect  bid  Epaminondas  lay  down  his  arms,  you  bid  Ly- 
curgus  rescind  his  laws,  you  bid  Thrasybulus  spare  the 
tyrants,  in  a  word,  you  bid  Pythagoras  forbear  his  instruc¬ 
tions,  and  Socrates  his  reasonings  and  discourses ;  nay, 
you  lay  injunctions  chiefly  upon  yourself,  Epicurus,  not 
to  maintain  that  epistolary  correspondence  with  your  Asiatic 
friends,  not  to  entertain  your  Egyptian  visitants,  not  to  be 
tutor  to  the  youth  of  Lampsacus,  not  to  present  and  send 
about  your  books  to  women  as  well  as  men,  out  of  an 
ostentation  of  some  wisdom  in  yourself  more  than  vulgar, 
not  to  leave  such  particular  directions  about  your  funeral 
And  in  fine,  to  what  purpose,  Epicurus,  did  you  keep  a 
public  table  ?  Why  that  concourse  of  friends,  that  resort 
of  fair  young  men,  at  your  doors?  Why  so  many  thou¬ 
sand  lines  so  elaborately  composed  and  writ  upon  Metro- 
dorus,  Aristobulus,  and  Chaeredemus,  that  death  itself 
might  not  rob  us  of  them  ;  if  virtue  must  be  doomed  to  ob¬ 
livion,  art  to  idleness  and  inactivity,  philosophy  to  silence, 
and  all  a  man’s  happiness  must  be  forgotten  ? 

4.  But  if  indeed,  in  the  state  of  life  we  are  under,  you 
will  needs  seclude  us  from  all  knowledge  and  acquaintance 
with  the  world  (as  men  shut  light  from  their  entertainments 
and  drinking-bouts,  for  which  they  set  the  night  apart),  let 


200 


WHETHER  'TWERE  RIGHTLY  SAID, 


it  be  only  such  who  make  it  the  whole  business  of  life  to 
heap  pleasure  upon  pleasure  ;  let  such  live  recluses  all 
their  days.  Were  I,  in  truth,  to  wanton  away  my  days  in 
the  arms  of  your  miss  Hedeia,  or  spend  them  with  Leon- 
tium,  another  dear  of  yours,  —  were  T  to  bid  defiance  to 
virtue,,  or  to  place  all  that’s  good  in  the  gratification  of 
the  flesh  or  the  ticklings  of  a  sensual  pleasure,  —  these 
accursed  actions  and  rites  would  need  darkness  and  an 
eternal  night  to  veil  them ;  and  may  they  ever  be  doomed 
to  oblivion  and  obscurity.  But  what  should  they  hide  their 
heads  for,  who  with  regard  to  the  works  of  nature  own 
and  magnify  a  God,  who  celebrate  his  justice  and  provi¬ 
dence,  who  in  point  of  morality  are  due  observers  of  the 
law,  promoters  of  society  and  community  among  all  men, 
and  lovers  of  the  public- weal,  and  who  in  the  administration 
thereof  prefer  the  common  good  before  private  advantage  ? 
Why  should  such  men  cloister  up  themselves,  and  live  re¬ 
cluses  from  the  world?  For  would  you  have  them  out  of 
the  way,  for  fear  they  should  set  a  good  example,  and  al¬ 
lure  others  to  virtue  out  of  emulation  of  the  precedent  ?  If 
Themistocles’s  valor  had  been  unknown  at  Athens,  Greece 
had  never  given  Xerxes  that  repulse.  Had  not  Camillus 
shown  himself  in  defence  of  the  Homans,  their  city  Home 
had  no.  longer  stood.  Sicily  had  not  recovered  her  liberty, 
had  Plato  been  a  stranger  to  Dion.  Truly  (in  my  mind) 
to  be  known  to  the  world  under  some  eminent  character 
not  only  carries  a  reputation  with  it,  but  makes  the  virtues 
in  us  become  practical  like  light,  which  renders  us  not 


only  visible  but  useful  to  others.  Epaminondas,  during  the 
first  forty  years  of  his  life,  in  which  no  notice  was  taken  of 
him,  was  an  useless  citizen  to  Thebes ;  but  afterwards,  when 
he  had  once  gained  credit  and  the  government  amongst  the 
Thebans,  he  both  rescued  them  from  present  destruction, 
and  freed  even  Greece  herself  from  imminent  slavery,  ex¬ 
hibiting  (like  light,  which  is  in  its  own  nature  glorious,  and 


LIVE  CONCEALED. 


201 


to  others  beneficial  at  the  same  time)  a  valor  seasonably 
active  and  serviceable  to  bis  country,  yet  interwoven  with 
his  own  laurels.  For 

Virtue,  like  finest  brass,  by  use  grows  bright.* 

And  not  our  houses  alone,  when  (as  Sophocles  has  it)  they 
stand  long  untenanted,  run  the  faster  to  ruin  ;  but  men’s 
natural  parts,  lying  unemployed  for  lack  of  acquaintance 
with  the  world,  contract  a  kind  of  filth  or  rust  and  crazi¬ 
ness  thereby.  For  sottish  ease,  and  a  life  wholly  sedentary 
and  given  up  to  idleness,  spoil  and  debilitate  not  only  the 
body  but  the  soul  too.  And  as  close  waters  shadowed  over 
by  bordering  trees,  and  stagnated  in  default  of  springs  to 
supply  current  and  motion  to  them,  become  foul  and  cor¬ 
rupt  ;  so,  methinks,  is  it  wdth  the  innate  faculties  of  a 
dull  unstirring  soul,  —  whatever  usefulness,  whatever  seeds 
of  good  she  may  have  latent  in  her,  yet  when  she  puts 
not  these  powers  into  action,  when  once  they  stagnate, 
they  lose  their  vigor  and  run  to  decay. 

5.  See  you  not  how  on  night’s  approach  a  sluggish 
drowsiness  oft-times  seizes  the  body,  and  sloth  and  inac 
tiveness  surprise  the  soul,  and  she  finds  herself  heavy  and 
quite  unfit  for  action  ]  Have  you  not  then  observed  how 
a  man’s  reason  (like  fire  scarce  visible  and  just  going  out) 
retires  into  itself,  and  how  by  reason  of  its  inactivity  and 
dulness  it  is  gently  agitated  by  divers  fantastical  imagina-* 
tions,'so  that  nothing  remains  but  some  obscure  indications 
that  the  man  is  alive. 

But  when  the  orient  sun  brings  back  the  day. 

It  chases  night  and  dreamy  sleep  away. 

It  doth,  as  it  were,  bring  the  world  together  again,  and 
with  his  returned  light  call  up  and  excite  all  mankind  to 
thought  and  action  ;  and,  as  Democritus  tells  us,  men  set¬ 
ting  themselves  every  new-spring  day  to  endeavors  of 


♦  Sophocles,  Frag.  779. 


202 


WHETHER  ’TWERE  RIGHTLY  SAID, 


mutual  beneficence  and  service  one  towards  another,  as  if 
they  were  fastened  in  the  straitest  tie  together,  do  all  of 
them,  some  from  one,  some  from  another  quarter  of  the 
world,  rouse  up  and  awake  to  action. 

6.  For  my  own  part,  I  am  fully  persuaded  that  life  itself, 
and  our  being  born  at  the  rate  we  are,  and  the  origin  we 
share  in  common  with  all  mankind,  were  vouchsafed  us  by 
God  to  the  intent  we  should  be  known  to  one  another. 
It  is  true,  whilst  man,  in  that  little  part  of  him,  his  soul, 
lies  struggling  and  scattered  in  the  vast  womb  of  the 
universe,  he  is  an  obscure  and  unknown  being  ;  but,  when 
once  he  gets  hither  into  this  world  and  puts  a  body  on,  he 
grows  illustrious,  and  from  an  obscure  becomes  a  conspic¬ 
uous  being ;  from  an  hidden,  an  apparent  one.  For 
knowledge  does  not  lead  to  essence  (or  being),  as  some 
maintain  ;  but  the  essence  of  things  rather  conducts  us 
into  the  knowledge  and  understanding  thereof.  For  the 
birth  or  generation  of  individuals  gives  not  any  being 
to  them  which  they  had  not  before,  but  brings  that  in¬ 
dividual  into  view  ;  as  also  the  corruption  or  death  of 
any  creature  is  not  its  annihilation  or  reduction  into  mere 
nothing,  but  rather  a  sending  the  dissolved  being  into  an 
invisible  state.  Hence  is  it  that  many  persons  (conforma¬ 
bly  to  their  ancient  country  laws),  taking  the  Sun  to  be 
Apollo,  gave  him  the  names  of  Delius  and  Pythius  (that  is, 
conspicuous  and  known).  But  for  him,  be  he  either  God 
or  Daemon,  who  hath  dominion  over  the  opposite  portion, 
the  infernal  regions,  they  call  him  Hades  (that  is,  invisible), 

Emperor  of  gloomy  night  and  lazy  sleep, 

for  that  at  our  death  and  dissolution  we  pass  into  a  state 
of  invisibility  and  beyond  the  reach  of  mortal  eyes.  I  am 
indeed  of  opinion,  that  the  ancients  called  man  Phos  (that 
is,  light),  because  from  the  affinity  of  their  natures  strong 
desires  are  bred  in  mankind  of  continually  seeing  and 


LIVE  CONCEALED. 


203 


being  seen  to  each  other.  Nay,  some  philosophers  hold 
the  soul  itself  to  be  essentially  light ;  which  they  would 
prove  by  this  among  other  arguments,  that  nothing  is  so 
insupportable  to  the  mind  of  man  as  ignorance  and  ob¬ 
scurity.  Whatever  is  destitute  of  light  she  avoids,  and 
darkness,  the  harbor  of  fears  and  suspicions,  is  uneasy  to 
her  ;  whereas,  on  the  other  hand,  light  is  so  delicious,  so 
desirable  a  thing,  that  without  that,  and  wrapped  in  dark¬ 
ness,  none  of  the  delectables  in  nature  are  pleasing  to  her. 
This  makes  all  our  very  pleasures,  all  our  diversions  and 
enjoyments,  charming  and  grateful  to  us,  like  some  univer¬ 
sal  relishing  ingredients  mixed  with  the  others  to  make 
them  palatable.  But  he  that  casts  himself  into  obscure 
retirements,  he  that  sits  surrounded  in  darkness  and  buries 
himself  alive,  seems,  in  my  mind,  to  repine  at  his  own 
birth  and  grudge  he  ever  had  a  being. 

7.  And  yet  it  is  certain,  in  the  regions  prepared  for 
pious  souls,  they  conserve  not  only  an  existence  in  (or 
agreeable  to)  nature,  but  are  encircled  with  glory. 

There  the  sun  with  glorious  ray, 

Chasing  shady  night  away, 

Make?  an  everlasting  day  ; 

Where  souls  in  fields  of  purple  roses  play ; 

Others  in  verdant  plains  disport, 

Crowned  with  trees  of  every  sort. 

Trees  that  never  fruit  do  bear, 

But  always  in  the  blossom  are.* 

The  rivers  there  without  rude  murmurs  gently  glide,  and 
there  they  meet  and  bear  each  other  company,  passing 
away  their  time  in  commemorating  and  running  over  things 
past  and  present. 

A  third  state  there  is  of  them  who^have  led  viciouS'  and 
wicked  lives,  which  precipitates  souls  into  a  kind  of  hell 
and  miserable  abyss. 

Where  sluggish  streams  of  sable  night 
Spout  fioods  of  darkness  infinite.* 

This  is  the  receptacle  of  the  tormented ;  here  lie  they  hid 

\  *  From  Pindar. 


/ 


204  WHETHER  ’TWERE  RIGHTLY  SAID,  LIVE  CONCEALED. 

under  the  veils  of  eternal  ignorance  and  oblivion.  For 
vultures  do  not  everlastingly  gorge  themselves  upon  the 
liver  of  a  wicked  man,  exposed  by  angry  Gods  upon  the 
earth,  as  poets  fondly  feign  of  Prometheus.  For  either 
rottenness  or  the  funeral  pile  hath  consumed  that  long  ago. 
Nor  do  the  bodies  of  the  tormented  undergo  (as  Sisyphus 
is  fabled  to  do)  the  toil  and  pressure  of  weighty  burdens  ; 

For  strength  no  longer  flesh  and  hone  sustains.* 

There  are  no  reliques  of  the  body  in  dead  men  which 
stripes  and  tortures  can  make  impressions  on  ;  but  in  very 
truth  the  sole  punishment  of  ill-livers  is  an  inglorious 
obscurity,  or  a  final  abolition,  which  through  oblivion  hurls 
and  plunges  them  into  deplorable  rivers,  bottomless  seas, 
and  a  dark  abyss,  involving  all  in  uselessness  and  inactivity, 
absolute  ignorance  and  obscurity,  as  their  last  and  eternal 
doom. 


♦  Odyss.  XL  219. 


OF  BANISHMENT,  OB  FLYING  ONE’S  COUNTRY. 


1.  One  may  say  of  discourses  what  they  use  to  say  of 
friends,  that  they  are  the  best  and  firmest  that  afford  their 
useful  presence  and  help  in  calamities.  Many  indeed  pre¬ 
sent  themselves  and  discourse  with  those  that  are  fallen 
into  misfortunes,  who  yet  do  them  more  harm  than  good. 
Like  men  that  attempt  to  succor  drowning  persons  and 
have  themselves  no  skill  in  diving  under  water,  they  en¬ 
tangle  one  another,  and  sink  together  to  the  bottom.  The 
discourses  of  friends,  such  as  would  help  an  afflicted  person, 
ought  to  be  directed  to  the  consolation,  and  not  to  the  pa¬ 
tronage  of  his  sorrows.  For  we  have  no  need  in  our  dis¬ 
tresses  of  such  as  may  bear  us  company  in  Aveeping  and 
howling,  like  a  chorus  in  a  tragedy,  but  of  such  as  will 
deal  freely  with  us,  and  will  convince  us  that,  —  as  it  is  in 
all  cases  vain  and  foolish  and  to  no  purpose  to  grieve  and 
cast  down  one’s  self,  —  so,  when  the  things  themselves  that 
afflict  us,  after  a  rational  examination  and  discovery  of  what 
they  are,  give  a  man  leave  to  say  to  himself  thus, 

Thou  feel’st  but  little  pain  and  smart, 

Unless  thou’lt  feign  and  act  a  part, 

it  would  be  extremely  ridiculous  for  him  not  to  put  the 
question  to  his  body,  and  ask  it  what  it  has  suffered,  nor  to 
his  soul,  and  ask  how  much  worse  it  is  become  by  this 
accident,  but  only  to  make  use  of  those  teachers  of  grief 
from  abroad,  who  come  to  bear  a  part  with  him  in  his  sor¬ 
row,  or  to  express  indignation  at  what  has  happened. 


206 


OF  BANISHMENT, 


2.  Let  US  therefore,  when  we  are  alone,  question  with 
ourselves  concerning  the  things  that  have  befallen  us,  con¬ 
sidering  them  as  heavy  loads.  The  body,  we  know,  is 
under  pressure  by  a  burden  lying  upon  it ;  but  the  soul 
oft-times  adds  a  further  weight  of  her  own  to  things.  A 
stone  is  hard  and  ice  is  cold  by  nature,  not  by  any  thing 
from  without  happening  to  make  such  qualities  and  impres¬ 
sions  upon  them.  But  as  for  banishment  and  disgraces  and 
loss  of  honors  (and  so  for  their  contraries,  crowns,  chief 
rule,  and  precedency  of  place),  our' opinion  prescribing  the 
measure  of  our  joys  or  sorrows  and  not  the  nature  of  the 
things  themselves,  every  man  makes  them  to  himself  light 
or  heavy,  easy  to  be  borne  or  grievous.  You  may  hear 
Polynices’s  answer  to  this  question, 

JocAST.  But  say,  is’t  so  deplorable  a  case 
To  live  in  exile  from  one’s  native  place  1 
PoLYN.  It’s  sad  indeed  ;  and  whatsoe’er  you  guess, 

’Tis  worse  to  endure  than  any  can  express.* 

But  you  may  hear  Aleman  in  quite  another  strain,  as 
the  epigrammatist  has  brought  him  in  saying : 

Sardis,  my  ancient  fatherland, 

Hadst  thou,  by  Fate’s  supreme  command, 

>  ,  My  helpless  childhood  nourished, 

I  must  have  begg’d  my  daily  bread. 

Or  else,  a  beardless  priest  become. 

Have  toss’d  Cybele  frantic  down. 

Now  Aleman  I  am  call’d  —  a  name 
Inscribed  in  Sparta’s  lists  of  fame. 

Whose  many  tripods  record  bear 
Of  solemn  wreaths  and  tripods  rare. 

Achieved  in  worship  at  the  shrine 
,  Of  Heliconian  maids  divine, 

By  whose  great  aid  I’m  mounted  higher 
Than  Gyges  or  his  wealthy  sire,  t 

Thus  one  man’s  opinion  makes  the  same  thing  commo¬ 
dious,  like  current  money,  and  another  man’s  unserviceable 
and  hurtful. 

*  Eurip.  Phoeniss.  388  and  389. 

t  This  translation  is  taken  from  Burges’s  Greek  Anthology,  p.  470.  It  is  there 
signed  J.  H.  M.  (G.) 


OK  FLYING  ONE^S  COUNTRY. 


207 


3.  But  let  us  grant  (as  many  say  and  sing)  that  it  is  a 
grievous  thing  to  be  banished.  So  there  are  also  many 
things  tl^at  we  eat,  of  a  bitter,  sharp,  and  biting  taste,  which 
yet  by  a  mixture  of  other  things  more  mild  and  sweet  have , 
all  their  unpleasantness  taken  off.  There  are  also  some 
colors  troublesome  to  look  upon,  which  bear  so  hard  and 
strike  so  piercingly  upon  the  sight,  that  they  confound  and 
dazzle  it ;  if  now  by  mixing  shadows  with  them,  or  by  turn¬ 
ing  our  eyes  upon  some  green  and  pleasant  color,  we  rem 
edy  this  inconvenience,  thou  mayst  also  do  the  same  to  the 
afflictions  that  befall  thee,  considering  them  with  a  mixture 
of  those  advantages  and  benefits  thou  still  enjoyest,  as  wealth', 
friends,  vacancy  from  business,  and  a  supply  of  all  things 
necessary  to  human  life.  For  I  think  there  are  few  Sar¬ 
dians  but  would  desire  to  be  in  your  condition,  though  ban¬ 
ished,  and  would  choose  to  live  as  you  may  do,  though  in  a 
strange  country,  rather  than  —  like  snails  that  grow  to  their 
shells  —  enjoy  no  other  good,  saving  only  what  they  have 
at  home  without  trouble. 

4.  As  he  therefore  in  the  comedy  that  advised  his  unfor¬ 
tunate  friend  to  take  heart  and  to  revenge  himself  of  For¬ 
tune,  being  asked  which  way,  answered.  By  the  help  of 
philosophy ;  so  we  also  may  be  revenged  of  her,  by  acting 
worthily  like  philosophers.  For  what  course  do  we  take 
when  it  is  rainy  weather,  or  a  cold  north  wind  blows'?  We 
creep  to  the  fireside,  or  go  into  a  bath,  put  on  more  clothes, 
or  go  into  a  dry  house  ;  and  do  not  sit  still  in  a  shower  and 
cry.  It  is  in  thy  power  above  most  men’s  to  revive  and 
cherish  that  part  of  thy  life  which  seems  to  be  chill  and 
benumbed,  not  needing  any  other  helps,  but  only  according 
to  thy  best  judgment  and  prudence  making  use  of  the 
things  that  thou  possessest.  The  cupping-glasses  physi¬ 
cians  use,  by  drawing  the  worst  humors  out  of  the  body, 
alleviate  and  preserve  the  rest ;  but  they  that  are  prone  to 
grieve  and  make  sad  complaints,  by  mustering  together 


208 


OF  BANISHMENT, 


alway  the  worst  of  their  afflictive  circumstances,  by  de¬ 
bating  these  things  over  and  over,  being  fastened  (as  it 
were)  to  their  troubles,  make  the  most  advantageous  things 
to  be  wholly  useless  to  themselves,  and  especially  when 
their  case  requires  most  help  and  assistance.  As  for  those 
two  hogsheads,  my  friend,  which  Homer  says  lie  in  heaven, 
full,  the  one  of  the  good,  the  other  of  the  ill  fates  of  men,  — 
it  is  not  Jupiter  that  sits  to  draw  out  and  transmit  to  some 
a  moderate  share  of  evils  mixed  with  good,  but  to  others 
only  unqualified  streams  of  evil ;  but  it  is  we  ourselves  who 
do  it.  Those  of  us  that  are  wise,  drawing  out  of  the  good 
to  temper  with  our  evils,  make  our  lives  pleasant  and  pota¬ 
ble  ;  but  the  greater  part  (which  are  fools)  are  like  sieves, 
which  let  the  best  pass  through,  but  the  worst  and  the  very 
dregs  of  misfortune  stick  to  them  and  remain  behind. 

5.  Wherefore,  if  we  fall  into  any  real  evil  or  calamity, 
we  must  bring  in  what  is  pleasant  and  delightful  of  the 
remaining  good  things  in  our  possession,  and  thus,  by  what 
we  enjoy  at  home,  mitigate  the  sense  of  those  evils  that 
befall  us  from  abroad.  But  where  there  is  no  evil  in  the 
nature  of  the  things,  but  the  whole  of  that  which  afilicts 
us  is  framed  by  imagination  and  false  opinion,  in  this  case 
we  must  do  just  as  we  deal  with  children  that  are  apt  to 
be  frighted  with  false  faces  and  vizards  ;  by  bringing  them 
nearer,  and  making  them  handle  and  turn  them  on  every 
side,  they  are  brought  at  last  to  despise  them ;  so  we,  by 
a  nearer  touching  and  fixing  our  consideration  upon  our 
feigned  evils,  may  be  able  to  detect  and  discover  the  weak¬ 
ness  and  vanity  of  what  we  fear  and  so  tragically  deplore. 

Such  is  your  present  condition  of  being  banished  out  of 
that  which  you  account  your  country ;  for  nature  has  given 
us  no  country,  as  it  has  given  us  no  house  or  field,  no  smith’s 
or  apothecary’s  shop,  as  Ariston  said ;  but  every  one  of 
them  is  always  made  or  rather  called  such  a  man’s  by  his  - 
dwelling  in  it  or  making  use  of  it.  For  man  (as  Plato  says) 


OR  FLYING  ONE’S  COUNTRY. 


209 


% 

is  not  an  earthly  and  unmovable,  but  a  heavenly  plant,  the 
head  raising  the  body  erect  as  from  a  root,  and  directed 
upwards  toward  heaven.*  Hence  is  that  saying  of  Her¬ 
cules  : 

Am  I  of  Thebes  or  Argos  ?  Whether 
You  please,  for  I’m  content  with  either ; 

But  to  determine  one,  ’tis  pity, 

In  Greece  my  country’s  every  city. 

But  Socrates  expressed  it  better,  when  he  said,  he  was 
not  an  Athenian  or  a  Greek,  but  a  citizen  of  the  world 
(just  as  a  man  calls  himself  a  citizen  of  Ehodes  or  Cor 
inth),  because  he  did  not  enclose  himself  within  the  limits 
of  Sunium,  Taenarum,  or  the  Ceraunian  mountains. 

Behold  how  yonder  azure  sky, 

Extending  vastly  wide  and  high 
To  infinitely  distant  spaces. 

In  her  soft  arms  our  earth  embraces.! 

These  are  the  boundaries  of  our  country,  and  no  man  is 
an  exile  or  a  stranger  or  foreigner  in  these,  where  there  is 
the  same  fire,  water,  air,  the  same  rulers,  administrators, 
and  presidents,  the  same  sun,  moon,  and  day  star ;  where 
there  are  the  same  laws  to  all,  and  where,  under  one  or¬ 
derly  disposition  and  government,  are  the  summer  and 
winter  solstices,  the  equinoxes,  Pleiades,  Arcturus,  times 
of  sowing  and  planting ;  where  there  is  one  king  and  su¬ 
preme  ruler,  which  is  God,  who  comprehends  the  beginning, 
the  middle,  and  end  of  the  universe ;  who  passes  through 
all  things  in  a  straight  course,  compassing  all  things  accord¬ 
ing  to  nature :  justice  follows  him  to  take  vengeance  on 
those  that  transgress  the  divine  law,  which  justice  we 
naturally  all  make  use  of  towards  all  men,  as  being  citizens 
of  the  same  community. 

6.  But  for  thee  to  complain  that  thou  dost  not  dwell  at 
Sardis  is  no  objection  ;  for  all  the  Athenians  do  not  inhabit 
Collvtus,  nor  do  all  the  men  of  Corinth  live  in  the  Cran- 
^um,  nor  all  of  Lacedaem'on  in  Pitane. 

*  Plato,  Timaeus,  p.  90  A.  '  t  Euripides,  Frag.  935. 


210 


OF  BANISHMENT, 


13o  you  look  upon  those  Athenians  as  strangers  and  ban¬ 
ished  persons  who  removed  from  Melite  to  Diomea,  — 
whence  they  called  the  month  Metageitnion,  and  the  sacri¬ 
fices  they  offered  in  memory  of  their  removal  Metageitnia, 
being  pleased  with  and  cheerfully  accepting  this  new 
neighborhood  to  another  people  ?  Surely  you  will  not  say 
so.  What  parts  of  the  inhabited  earth  or  of  the  whole 
earth  can  be  said  to  be  far  distant  one  from  another,  when 
mathematicians  demonstrate  that  the  whole  earth  is  to  be 
accounted  as  an  indivisible  point,  compared  with  the  heav¬ 
ens  ?  But  we,  like  pismires  or  bees,  when  we  are  cast  out 
of  one  ant-hill  or  hive,  are  in  great  anxiety,  and  take  on  as 
if  we  were  strangers  and  undone,  not  knowing  how  to 
make  and  account  all  things  our  own,  as  indeed  they  are. 
We  shall  certainly  laugh  at  his  folly  who  shall  affirm  there 
was  a  better  moon  at  Athens  than  at  Corinth ;  and  yet  we 
in  a  sort  commit  the  same  error,  when  being  in  a  strange 
country  we  look  upon  the  earth,  the  sea,  the  air,  the  heav¬ 
ens  doubtfully,  as  if  they  were  not  the  same,  but  quite 
different  from  those  we  have  been  accustomed  to.  Nature 
in  our  first  production  sent  us  out  free  and  loose ;  we  bind 
and  straiten  and  pin  up  ourselves  in  houses,  and  reduce 
ourselves  into  a  scant  and  little  room. 

Moreover,  we  laugh  at  the  kings  of  Persia,  who  (if  the 
story  be  true)  will  drink  only  the  water  of  the  River  Choas- 
pes,  by  this  means  making  the  rest  of  the  habitable  world 
to  be  without  water,  as  to  themselves ;  but  we,  when  we 
remove  to  other  countries,  and  retain  our  longings  after 
Cephissus  and  Eurotas,  and  are  pleased  with  nothing  so 
much  as  the  hills  Taygetus  and  Parnassus,  we  make  the 
whole  earth  unhabitable  to  ourselves,  and  are  without  a 
house  or  city  where  we  can  dwell. 

7.  When  certain  Egyptians,  not  enduring  the  anger  and 
hard  usage  of  their  king,  went  to  dwell  In  Ethiopia,  ancV 
sojue  earnestly  entreated  them  to  return  to  their  wives 


OR  FLYING  ONE’S  COUNTRY. 


211 


and  children  they  had  left  behind  them,  they  very  impu¬ 
dently  showed  them  their  privy  parts,  saying  they  should 
never  want  wives  or  children  whilst  they  carried  those 
about  them.  But  it  is  more  grave  and  becoming  to  say 
that  whosoever  happens  to  be  provided  with  a  competency 
of  the  necessaries  to  life,  wheresoever  he  is,  is  not  without 
a  city  or  a  dwelling,  nor  need  reckon  himself  a  stranger 
there ;  only  he  ought  to  have  besides  these  prudence  and 
consideration,  like  a  governing  anchor,  that  he  may  be  able 
to  make  advantage  of  any  port  at  which  he  arrives.  It  is 
not  easy  indeed  for  him  that  has  lost  his  wealth  quickly  to 
gather  it  up  again ;  but  every  city  becomes  presently  that 
man’s  country  who  has  the  skill  to  use  it,  and  who  has 
those  roots  which  can  live  and  thrive,  cling  and  grow  to 
every  place.  Such  had  Themistocles,  and  such  had  Deme¬ 
trius  Phalareus  ;  for  this  last  named,  after  his  banishment, 
being  the  prime  friend  of  King  Ptolemy  in  Alexandria,  not 
only  was  abundantly  provided  for  himself,  but  also  sent 
presents  to  the  Athenians.  As  for  Themistocles,  he  was 
maintained  by  an  allowance  suitable  to  his  quality  at  the 
King’s  charge,  and  is  reported  to  have  said  to  his  wdfe  and 
children.  We  had  been  undone,  if  we  had  not  been  undone. 
Diogenes  the  Cynic  also,  when  one  told  him.  The  Sinopians 
have  condemned  thee  to  fly  from  Pontus,  replied,  And  I 
have  condemned  them  to  stay  in  Pontus, 

Close  prisoners  there  to  be, 

At  th’  utmost  shore  of  the  fierce  Euxine  Sea.* 

Stratonicus  enquiring  of  his  host  in  the  isle  of  Seriphus 
what  crime  among  them  was  punished  with  banishment, 
and  being  told  forgery  was  so  punished,  he  asked  him  why 
he  did  not  commit  that  crime  that  he  might  be  removed 
out  of  that  strait  place ;  and  yet  there,  as  the  comedian 
expresses  it,  they  reap  down  their  figs  with  slings,  and 
that  island  is  provided  with  all  things  that  it  wants. 

♦  Eurip.  Iph.  Taur.  253. 


212 


OF  BANISHMENT, 


8.  For  if  you  consider  the  truth  of  things,  setting  aside 
vain  fancy  and  opinion,  he  that  has  got  an  agreeable  city 
to  dwell  in  is  a  stranger  and  foreigner  to  all  the  rest,  for  it 
seems  not  reasonable  and  just,  that  leaving  his  own  he 
should  go  to  dwell  in  another  city.  As  the  proverb  is, 
“  Sparta  is  the  province  fallen  to  your  lot,  adorn  it,”  though 
it  should  be  in  no  credit  or  prove  unhealthful,  though  dis¬ 
turbed  with  seditions,  and  its  affairs  in  distemper  and  out 
of  order.  But  as  for  him  whom  Fortune  has  deprived  of 
his  own  habitation,  it  gives  him  leave  to  go  and  dwell 
where  he  pleases.  That  good  precept  of  the  Pythago¬ 
reans,  “  Make  choice  o*f  the  best  life  you  can,  and  custom 
will  make  it  pleasant,”  is  here  also  wdse  and  useful.  Choose 
the  best  and  pleasantest  place  to  live  in,  and  time  will 
make  it  thy  country,  and  such  a  country  as  will  not  en¬ 
cumber  and  distract  thee,  not  laying  on  thee  such  com 
mands  as  these,  —  Bring  in  so  much  money ;  Go  on  such 
an  -embassy  to  Pome ;  Entertain  such  a  governor ;  Bear 
such  a  public  office.  If  a  prudent  person  and  no  way 
conceited,  calls  these  things  to  mind,  he  will  choose  to  live 
in  exile  in  such  a  sorry  island  as  Gyarus,  or  in  Cynarus 
that  is  “so  hard  and  barren  and  unfit  for  plantation,”  and 
do  this  without  reluctancy,  not  making  such  sorrowful  com¬ 
plaints  as  the  women  do  in  the  poet  Simonides : 

The  troubled  sea’s  dark  waves  surround  me, 

And  with  their  horrid  noise  confound  me  ; 

but  will  rather  remind  himself  of.  that  saying  of  King 
Philip,  who  receiving  a  fall  in  a  place  of  wrestling,  wffien 
he  turned  himself  in  rising  and  saw  the  print  of  his  body 
in  the  dust,  exclaimed.  Good  God !  wffiat  a  small  portion 
of  earth  has  Nature  assigned  us,  and  yet  we  covet  the 
whole  world. 

9.  I  presume  you  have  seen  the  island  of  Naxos,  or  at 
least  the  town  of  Hyria  here  hard  by ;  in  the  former  of 
which  Ephialtes  and  Otus  made  their  abode,  and  in  the 


OR  FLYING  ONE’S  COUNTRY. 


^  213 


latter  Orion  dwelt.  Alcmaeon’s  seat  was  on  the  newly 
hardened  mud  which  the  river  Achelous  had  cast  up, — 
when  he  fled  from  the  Furies,  as  the  poets  tell  us,  —  but  1 
guess  it  was  when  he  fled  from  the  rulers  of  the  state  and 
from  seditions,  and  to  avoid  those  furies,  the  sycophants 
and  informers,  that  he  chose  that  little  spot  of  ground  to 
dwell  on,  where  he  was  free  from  business  and  lived  in  ease 
and  quiet.  Tiberius  Caesar  passed  the  last  seven  years  of 
his  life  in  the  island  of  Capreae  ;  and  that  sacred  governing 
spirit  that  swayed  the  whole  world,  and  was  enclosed  as  it 
were  in  his  breast,  yet  for  so  long  time  never  removed  nor 
changed  place.  And  yet  the  thoughts  and  cares  of  the 
empire,  that  were  poured  in  upon  him  and  invaded  him  on 
every  side,  made  that  island’s  repose  and  retirement  to  be 
less  pure  and  undisturbed  to  him.  But  he  that  by  re¬ 
treating  to  a  small  island  can  free  himself  from  great  evils 
is  a  miserable  man,  if  he  does  not  often  say  and  sing  those 
verses  of  Pindar  to  himself,  — 

Where  slender  cypress  grows  I’d  have  a  seat, 

But  care  not  for  the  shady  woods  of  Crete  ! 

I’ve  little  land  and  so  not  many  trees, 

But  free  from  sorrow  I  enjoy  much  ease,  — 

not  being  disquieted  with  seditions  or  the  edicts  of  princes, 
nor  with  administering  affairs  when  the  public  is  in  straits, 
.nor  undergoing  officers  that  are  hard  to  be  put  by  and 
denied. 

10.  For  if  that  be  a  good  saying  of  Callimachus,  that 
we  ought  not  to  measure  wisdom  by  a  Persian  cord,  much 
less  should  we  measure  happiness  by  cords  of  furlongs, 
or,  if  we  chance  to  inhabit  an  island  of  two  hundred  fur¬ 
longs  and  not  (like  Sicily)  of  four  days’  sail  in  compass,, 
think  that  we  ought  to  disquiet  ourselves  and  lament  as  if 
we  were  very  miserable  and  unfortunate.  For  what  does  a 
place  of  large  extent  contribute  to  the  tranquillity  of  one’s 
life  1  Do  you  not  hear  Tantalus  saying  in  the  tragedy : 


.214 


OF  BANISHMENT, 


I  sow  the  Berecyntian  ground, 

A  field  of  twelve  days’  journey  round  ? 

But  he  says  a  little  after : 

My  mind,  that  used  to  mount  the  skies. 

Fallen  to  the  earth  dejected  lies. 

And  now  this  friendly  counsel  brings,— 

Less  to  admire  all  earthly  things.* 

Nausithous,  forsaking  the  spacious  country  of  Hyperia 
because  the  Cyclops  bordered  upon  it,  and  removing  to  an 
island  far  distant  from  all  other  people,  chose  there, 

Kemote  from  all  commerce  t’  abide. 

By  sea’s  surrounding  waves  denied  ;  t 

and  yet  he  procured  a  very  pleasant  way  of  living  to  his 
own  citizens. 

The  Cyclades  islands  were  formerly  inhabited  by  the 
children  of  Minos,  and  afterwards  by  the  children  of  Codrus 
and  Neleus ;  in  which  now  fools  that  are  banished  thither 
think  they  are  punished.  And  indeed,  what  island  is  there 
to  which  men  are  wont  to  be  banished  that  is  not  larger 
than  the  land  that  lies  about  Scillus,  in  which  Xenophon 
after  his  military  expedition  passed  delicately  his  old  age  ? 
The  Academy  near  Athens,  that  was  purchased  for  three 
thousand  drachmas,  was  the  place  wdiere  Plato,  Xeno- 
crates,  and  Polemo  dwelt ;  there  they  held  their  schools, 
and  there  they  lived  all  their  lifetime,  except  one  day  every 
year,  when  Xenocrates  came  into  the  city  at  the  time  of 
the  Bacchanals  and  the  new  tragedies,  to  grace  the  feast, 
as  they  say.  Theocritus  of  Chios  reproached  Aristotle, 
who  affected  a  court-life  with  Philip  and  Alexander,  that 
he  chose  instead  of  the  Academy  rather  to  dwell  at  the 
mouth  of  Borborus.  For  there  is  a  river  by  Pella,  which 
the  Macedonians  call  by  that  name. 

But  as  for  islands,  Homer  sets  himself  as  it  were  stu¬ 
diously  to  conimend  them  in  these  verses : 

\ 

*  From  the  Niobe  of  Aeschylus,  Frag.  153  and  154.  f  Odyss.  VI.  204. 


OR  FLYING  ONE’S  COUNTRY. 


215 


He  comes  to  the  isle  of  Lemnos,  and  the  town 
Where  divine  Thoas  dwelt,  of  great  renown  ; 

and 

As  much  as  fruitful  Lesbos  does  contain, 

A  seat  wliich  Gods  above  do  not  disdain ; 

and 

When  he  to  th’  lofty  hills  of  Scyros  came, 

And  took  the  town  that  boasts  Enyeus’s  name ; 

and 

These  from  Dulichium  and  th’  Echinades, 

Blest  isles,  that  lie  ’gainst  Elis,  o’er  the  seas  * 

And  among  the  famous  men  that  dwelt  in  islands  they 
reckon  Aeolus,  a  great  favorite  of  the  Gods,  the  most  pru¬ 
dent  Ulysses,  the  most  valiant  Ajax,  and  Alcinous,  the  most 
courteous  entertainer  of  strangers. 

11.  When  Zeno  was  told  that  the  only  ship  he  had 
remaining  was  cast  away  at  sea  with  all  her  lading,  he 
replied:  Well  done  Fortune,  that  hast  reduced  me  to  the 
habit  and  life  of  a  philosopher.  And,  indeed,  a  man  that 
is  not  puffed  up  with  conceit  nor  madly  in  love  with  a 
crowd  will  not,  I  suppose,  have  any  reason  to  accuse 
Fortune  for  constraining  him  to  live  in  an  island,  but  will 
rather  commend  her  for  removing  so  much  anxiety  and 
agitation  of  his  mind,  for  putting  a  stop  to  his  rambles  in 
foreign  countries,  to  his  dangers  at  sea,  and  the  noise  and 
tumult  of  the  exchange,  and  for  giving  him  a  fixed,  vacant, 
undisturbed  life,  such  a  life  as  he  may  truly  call  his  own, 
describing  as  it  were  a  circle  about  him,  in  which  is  con¬ 
tained  the  use  of  all  things  necessary.  For  what  island  is 
there  that  has  not  a  horse,  a  walk,  and  a  bath  in  it ;  that 
has  not  fishes  and  hares  for  such  as  delight  in  hunting  and 
angling  and  such  like  sports  1  But  the  chiefest  of  all  is, 
that  the  quiet  which  others  thirst  so  much  after  thou  com* 
monly  mayst  have’  here  without  seeking.  For  those  that 
are  gamesters  at  dice,  shutting  up  themselves  at  home, 
there  are  sycophants  and  busy  spies  that  hunt  them  out, 
and  prosecute  them  from  their  houses  of  pleasure  and 

*  11.  XIV.  230 ;  XXIV.  544 ;  IX.  668 ;  II.  625. 


216 


OF  BANISHMENT, 


gardens  in  the  suburbs,  and  bale  them  by  violence  before 
the  judges  or  the  court.  But  none  sails  to  an  island  to 
give  a  man  any  disturbance,  no  petitioner,  no  borrower,  no 
urger  to‘  suretyship,  no  one  that  comes  to  beg  his  voice 
when  be  stands  candidate  for  an  office ;  only  the  best 
friends  a!nd  familiars,  out  of  good-will  and  desire  to  see 
him,  may  come  over  thither;  and  the  rest  of  his  life  is 
safe  and  inviolable  to  him,  if  he  has  the  will  and  the  skill 
to  live  at  ease.  But  he  that  cries  up  the  happiness  of 
those  that  run  about  in  other  countries,  or  spend  the  most 
of  their  life  in  inns  and  passage-boats,  is  no  wiser  than  he 
is  that  thinks  the  planets  in  a  better  estate  than  the  fixed 
stars.  And  yet  every  planet  rolling  about  in  its  proper 
sphere,  as  in  an  island,  keeps  its  order.  For  the  sun  never 
transgresses  its  limited  measures,  as  Heraclitus  says ;  if  it 
did  do  so,  the  Furies,  which  are  the  attendants  of  Justice, 
would  find  it  out  and  punish  it. 

12.  These  things,  my  friend,  and  such  like  we  say  and 
sing  to  those  who,  by  being  banished  into  an  island,  have 
■  no  correspondence  or  commerce  with  other  people, 

Hindered  by  waves  of  the  surrounding  deep, 

Which  many  ’gainst  their  mind  close  prisoners  keep.* 

But  as  for  thee,  who  art  not  assigned  to  one  place  only, 
but  forbidden  only  to  live  in  one,  the  prohibiting  thee  one 
is  the  giving  thee  leave  to  dwell  anywhere  else  besides. 
If  on  one  hand  it  is  urged  thus  against  you :  You  are  in 
no  office,  you  are  not  of  the  senate,  nor  preside  as  moder¬ 
ator  at  the  public  games,  you  may  oppose  on  the  other 
hand  thus :  We  head  no  factions,  we  make  no  expensive 
treats,  nor  give  long  attendance  at  the  governor’s  gates ; 
we  care  not  at  all  who  is  chosen  into  our  province,  though 
he  be  choleric  or  unsufferably  vexatious. 

But  just  as  Archilochus  disparaged  the  island  of  Thasos 
because  of  its  asperity  and  inequality  in  some  places, 


*  II.  XXI.  69. 


OR  FLYING  ONE’S  COUNTRY. 


217 


overlooking  its  fruitful  fields  and  vineyards,  saying  thus 
of  it, 

Like  ridge  of  ass’s  back  it  stood, 

Full  of  wild  plants,  for  nothing  good ; 

so  we,  whilst  we  pore  upon  one  part  of  banishment  which 
is  ignominious,  overlook  its  vacancy  from  business,  and 
that  leisure  and  freedom  it  affords  us.' 

Men  admired  the  happiness  of  the  Persian  kings,  that 
passed  their  winter  in  Babylon,  their  summer  in  Media, 
and  the  pleasant  spring-time  at  Susa.  And  he  that  is  an 
exile  may,  if  he  pleases,  when  the  mysteries  of  Ceres  are 
celebrated,  go  and  live  at  Eleusis ;  and  he  may  keep  the 
feasts  of  Bacchus  at  Argos ;  at  the  time  of  the  Pythian 
games,  he  may  pass  over  to  Delphi,  and  of  the  Isthmian, 
to  Corinth,  if  public  spectacles  and  shows  are  the  things 
he  admires  ;  if  not,  then  he  may  be  idle,  or  walk,  or  read, 
or  sleep  quietly  ;  and  you  may  add  that  privilege  Diogenes 
bragged  of  when  he  said,  “  Aristotle  dines  when  it  seems 
good  to  King  Philip,  but  Diogenes  when  he  himself  pleases,’^ 
having  no  business,  no  magistrate,  no  prefect  to  interrupt 
and  disturb  his  customary  way  of  living. 

13.  For  this  reason,  you  will  find  that  very  few  of  the 
most  prudent  and  wise  men  were  buried  in  their  own 
country,  but  the  most  of  them,  when  none  forced  them 
to  it,  weighed  anchor  and  steered  their  course  to  live 
in  another  port,  removing  some  to  Athens,  and  others 
from  it. 

Who  ever  gave  a  greater  encomium  of  his  own  country 
than  Euripides  in  the  following  verses  ? 

We  are  all  of  this  country’s  native  race, 

Not  brought-in  strangers  from  another  place, 

As  some,  like  dice  hither  and  thither  thrown, 

Remove  in  haste  from  this  to  t’other  town. 

And,  if  a  woman  may  have  leave  to  boast, 

A  temperate  air  breathes  here  in  every  coast ; 

We  neither  curse  summer’s  immoderate  heat, 

Nor  yet  complain  the  winter’s  cold’s  too  great. 


218 


OF  BANISHMENT, 


If  aught  there  be  that  noble  Greece  doth  yield, 

Or  Asia  rich,  by  river  or  by  field, 

’  We  seek  it  out  and  bring  it  to  our  doors. 

And  yet  he  that  wrote  all  this  went  himself  into  Mace¬ 
donia,  and  passed  the  rest  of  his  days  in  the  court  of 
Archelaus.  I  suppose  you  have  also  heard  of  this  short 
epigram : 

Here  lieth  buried  Aeschylus,  the  son 
Of  the  Athenian  Euphorion ; 

In  Sicily  his  latest  breath  did  yield. 

And  buried  lies  by  Gela’s  fruitful  field. 

For  both  he  and  Simonides  before  him  went  into  Sicily. 
And  whereas  we  meet  with  this  title,  “  This  publication 
of  the  History  of  Herodotus  of  Halicarnassus,”  many  have 
changed  it  into  Herodotus  of  Thurii,  for  he  dwelt  at 
Thurii,  and  was  a  member  of  that  colony.  And  that 
sacred  and  divine  poet  Homer,  that  adorned  the  Trojan 
war,  —  why  was  he  a  controversy  to  so  many  cities  (every 
one  pleading  he  was  theirs)  but  because  he  did  not  cry  up 
any  one  of  them  to  the  disparagement  of  the  rest  ?  Many 
also  and  great  are  the  honors  that  are  paid  to  Jupiter 
Hospitalis. 

14.  If  any  one  object,  that  these  men  hunted  ambi¬ 
tiously  after  glory  and  honor,  let  him  go  to  the  philoso¬ 
phers  and  the  schools  and  nurseries  of  wisdom  at  Athens, 
those  in  the  Lyceum,  the  Academy,  the  Stoa,  the  Palla¬ 
dium,  the  Odeum.  If  he  admires  and  prefers  the  Peri¬ 
patetic  philosophy  before  the  rest,  Aristotle  was  a  native 
of  Sta^ira,  Theophrastus  of  Ephesus,  Straton  of  Lamp- 
sacus,  Glycon  of  Troas,  Ariston  of  Ceus,  Critolaus  of 
Phaselis.  If  thou  art  for  the  Stoic  philosophy,  Zeno  was 
of  Citium,  Cleanthes  of  Assus,  Chrysippus  of  Soli,  Diogenes 
of  Babylon,  Antipater  of  Tarsus,  and  Archedemus  who  was 
of  Athens  went  over  to  the  Parthians,  and'  left  a  succes¬ 
sion  of  Stoic  philosophers  in  Babylon.  And  who,  I  pray, 
persecuted  and  chased  these  men  out  of  their  country! 


OR  FLYING  ONE’S  COUNTRY. 


219 


Nobody  at  all ;  but  they  pursued  their  own  quiet,  which 
men  cannot  easily  enjoy  at  home  that  are  in  any  reputa¬ 
tion  or  have  any  power ;  other  things  they  taught  us  by 
what  they  said,  but  this  by  what  they  did.  For  even  now 
the  most  approved  and  excellent  persons  live  abroad  out 
of  their  own  country,  not  being  transported,  but  departing 
voluntarily,  not  being  driven  thence,  but  flying  from  busi¬ 
ness  and  from  the  disquiets  and  molestations  which  they 
are  sure  to  meet  with  at  home. 

It  seems  to  me  that  the  Muses  helped  the  ancient 
writers  to  flnish  their  choicest  and  most  approved  compo¬ 
sitions,  by  calling  in,  as  it  were,  banishment  to  their  as¬ 
sistance.  Thucydides  the  Athenian  wrote  the  Peloponne¬ 
sian  and  Athenian  War  in  Thrace,  hard  by  the  forest  of 
Scapte ;  Xenophon  wrote  his  history  in  Scillus  belonging 
to  Elis ;  Philistus  in  Epirus,  Timaeus  of  Tauromenum  at 
Athens,  Androtion  the  Athenian  in  Megara,  Bacchylides 
the  poet  in  Peloponnesus.  These  and  many  more,  after 
they  had  lost  their  country,  did  not  lose  all  hope  nor  were 
dejected  in  their  minds,  but  took  occasion  thereupon  to 
express  the  vivacity  of  their  spirit  and  the  dexterity  of 
their  wit,  receiving  their  banishment  at  the  hands  of  For¬ 
tune  as  a  viaticum  that  she  had  sent  them ;  whereby  they 
became  renowned  everywhere  after  death,  whereas  there 
is  no  remaining  mention  of  those  factious  persons  that 
expelled  them. 

15.  He  therefore  is  ridiculous  that  looks  upon  it  as  an 
ignominious  thing  to  be  banished.  For  what  is  it  that  thou 
sayest]  Was  Diogenes  ignominious,  when  Alexander, 
who  saw  him  sitting  and  sunning  himself,  came  and  asked 
him  whether  he  wanted  any  thing,  and  he  answered  him, 
that  he  lacked  nothing  but  that  he  would  go  a  little  aside 
and  not  stand  in  his  light  \  The  king,  admiring  the  pres¬ 
ence  of  his  mind,  turned  to  his  followers  and  said  :  If  I 
were  not  Alexander,  I  would  be  Diogenes.  Was  Camillus 


220 


OF  BANISHMENT, 


inglorious  because  he  was  expelled  Eome,  considering 
he  has  got  the  reputation  of  being  its  second  founder  ? 
Neither  did  Themistocles  by  his  banishment  lose  any  of 
the  renown  he  had  gained  in  Greece,  but  added  to  it  that 
which  he  had  acquired  among  the  barbarians ;  neither  is 
there  any  so  without  all  sense  of  honor,  or  of  such  an  ab¬ 
ject  mind,  that  had  not  rather  be  Themistocles  the  ban¬ 
ished,  than  Leobates  that  indicted  him  ;  or  be  Cicero  that 
had  the  same  fate,  than  Clodius  that  expelled  him  Kome  ; 
or  be  Timotheus  that  abandoned  his  country,  than  Aristo- 
phon  that  was  his  accuser. 

16.  But  because  the  words  of  Euripides  move  many,  who 
seems  to  frame  a  heavy  charge  against  banishment  and  to 
urge  it  home,  let  us  see  what  he  says  more  particularly  in 
his  questions  and  answers  about  it. 

JocASTA.  But  is’t  so  sad  one’s  country  to  forego, 

And  live  in  exile?  Pray,  son,  let  me  know. 

Pol.  Some  ills  when  told  are  great,  when  tried  are  less ; 

But  this  is  saddest  felt,  though  sad  t’  express. 

Joe.  What  is’t,  I  pray,  afflicts  the  banished  most? 

Pol.  That  liberty  to  speak  one’s  mind  is  lost. 

Joe.  He  is  indeed  a  slave  that  dares  not  utter 
His  thoughts,  nor  ’gainst  his  cruel  masters  mutter. 

Pol.  But  all  their  insolencies  must  o’erpass, 

And  bear  their  follies  tamely  like  an  ass.* 

These  assertions  of  his  are  neither  good  nor  true.  For 
first,  not  to  speak  what  one  thinks  is  not  a  piece  of  slavery  ; 
but  it  is  the  part  of  a  prudent  man  to  hold  one’s  peace  and 
be  silent  when  time  and  the  circumstances  of  affairs  re¬ 
quire  it ;  as  he  himself  says  better  elsewhere,  that  a  wise 
man  knows 

Both  when  it’s  best  no  tongue  to  find. 

And  when  it’s  safe  to  speak  his  mind. 

Again,  as  for  the  rudeness  and  insolency  of  such  as  have 
power  in  their  hands,  they  that  stay  in  their  country  are 
no  less  forced  to  bear  and  endure  it  than  those  that  are 
driven  out  of  it ;  nay,  commonly  the  former  stand  more  in 

*  Eurip.  Phoeniss.  388. 


OR  FLYING  ONE’S  COUNTRY. 


221 


fear  of  false  informations  and  the  violence  of  unjust  rulers 
in  cities  than  the  latter.  But  his  greatest  mistake  and 
absurdity  is  his  taking  away  all  freedom  of  speech  from 
exiles.  It  is  wonderful  indeed  if  Theodorus  had  no  free¬ 
dom  of  this  kind,  who,  —  when  King  Lysimachus  said  to 
him :  Thou  being  such  a  criminal,  the  country  cast  thee 
forth,  did  it  notl  —  replied:  Yes,  not  being  able  to  bear 
me  ;  just  as  Semele  cast  out  Bacchus,  when  she  could  bear 
him  no  longer.  And  when  the  king  showed  him  Teles- 
phorus  in  an  iron  cage,  with  his  eyes  digged  out  of  their 
holes,  his  nose  and  ears  and  tongue  cut  off,  and  said  :  So  I 
deal  with  those  that  injure  me,  he  was  not  abashed. 
What !  did  not  Diogenes  retain  his  wonted  freedom  of 
speaking,  who  coming  into  King  Philip’s  camp,  when  he 
was. going  to  give  the  Grecians  battle,  was  brought  before 
him  for  a  spy  ;  and  confessed  that  he  was  so,  but  that  he 
came  to  take  a  view  of  his  unsatiable  greediness  of  em¬ 
pire  and  of  his  madness  and  folly  who  was  going  in  the 
short  time  of  a  fight  to  throw  a  die  for  his  crown  and 
life  ] 

And  what  say  you  to  Hannibal  the  Carthaginian  ?  Did 
not  he  use  a  convenient  freedom  towards  Antiochus  (he  at 
that  time  an  exile,  and  the  other  a  king),  when  upon  an 
advantageous  occasion  he  advised  him  to  give  his  enemies 
battle  ^  He,  when  he  had  sacrificed,  told  him  the  entrails 
forbade  it.  Hannibal  sharply  rebuked  him  thus :  You  are 
for  doing  what  the  fiesh  of  a  beast,  not  wdiat  the  reason  of 
a  wise  man,  adviseth. 

Neither  does  banishment  deprive  geometricians  or  mathe 
maticians  of  the  liberty  of  discoursing  freely  concerning 
matters  they  know  and  have  skill  in ;  and  why  should  any 
worthy  or  good  man  be  denied  it  ]  But  meanness  of 
thought  obstructs  and  hinders  the  voice,  strangles  the 
power  of  speech,  and  makes  a  man  a  mute.  But  let  us 
see  what  follows  from  Euripides : 


222 


OF  BANISHMENT, 


Joe.  Upon  good  hopes  exiles  can  thrive,  they  say. 

Pol.  Hopes  have  fine  looks,  but  kill  one  with  delay.* 

This  is  also  an  accusation  of  men’s  folly  rather  than  of 
banishment ;  for  it  is  not  the  well  instructed  and  those  that 
know  how  to  use  what  they  have  aright,  but  such  as  de¬ 
pend  upon  what  is  to  come  and  desire  what  they  have  not, 
that  are  carried  and  tossed  up  and  down  by  hopes,  as  in  a 
floating  vessel,  though  they  have  scarce  ever  stirred  beyond 
the  gates  of  their  owil  city.  But  to  go  on  : 

Joe.  Did  not  your  father’s  friends  aid  your  distress  ? 

Pol.  Take  care  to  thrive  ;  for  if  you  once  are  poor, 

Those  you  call  friends  will  know  you  then  no  more. 

Joe.  Did  not  your  high  birth  stand  you  in  some  stead  ? 

Pol.  It’s  sad  to  want,  for  honor  buys  no  bread. 

These  also  are  ungrateful  speeches  of  Polynices,  who 
accuses  banishment  as  casting  disparagement  upon  noble 
birth  and  leaving  a  man  without  friends,  who  yet  because 
of  his  high  birth  was  thought  worthy,  though  an  exile,  to 
have  a  king’s  daughter  given  him  in  marriage,  and  also  by 
the  powerful  assistance  of  his  friends  gathered  ^  such  an 
army  as  to  make  war  against  his  own  country,  as  he  con¬ 
fesses  himself  a  little  after  : 

\ 

Many  a  famous  Grecian  peer 
And  captain  from  Mycenae  here 
In  readiness  t’  assist  me  tarry ; 

Sad  service  ’tis,  but  necessary.! 

Neither  are  the  words  of  his  lamenting  mother  any  wiser : 

No  nuptial  torch  at  all  I  lighted  have 
To  thee,  as  doth  a  wedding-feast  beseem  ; 

No  marriage-song  was  sung ;  nor  thee  to  lave  * 

Was  water  brought  from  fair  Ismenus’  stream. 

She  ought  to  have  been  well  pleased  and  rejoiced  when 
she  heard  that  her  son  dwelt  in  such  kingly  palaces  ;  but, 
whilst  she  laments  that  the  nuptial  torch  was  not  lighted, 
and  the  want  of  waters  from  Ismenus’s  river  for  him  to 


*  Eurip.  Phoeniss.  396. 


t  Ihid.,  430  and  344. 


OR  FLYING  ONE’S  COUNTRY. 


223 


have  bathed  in  (as  if  people  at  Argos  were  destitute  both 
of  fire  and  water  at  their  weddings),  she  makes  those  evils, 
which  her  own  conceit  and  folly  produced,  to  be  the  effects 
of  banishment. 

17.  But  is  it  not  then  an  ignominious  thing  to  be  an  ex¬ 
ile  ?  Yes,  it  is  among  fools,  with  whom  it  is  a  reproach  to 
be  poor,  to  be  bald,  or  of  low  stature,  and  (with  as  much 
reason)  to  be  a  stranger  or  a  pilgrim.  But  they  that  do  not 
fall  into  these  mistakes  admire  good  men,  though  they  hap¬ 
pen  to  be  poor  or  strangers  or  in  exile.  Do  not  we  see  the 
temple  of  Theseus  venerated  by  -all  men,  as  well  as  the 
Parthenon  and  Eleusinium  ?  And  yet  Theseus  was  ban 
ished  from  Athens,  by  whose  means  it  is  at  this  time 
inhabited ;  and  lost  his  abode  in  that  city,  which  he  did 
not  hold  as  a  tenant,  but  himself  built.  And  what  re¬ 
markable  thing  is  there  remaining  in  Eleusis,  if  we  are 
ashamed  of  Eumolpus,  who  coming  thither  from  Thrace 
initiated  the  Greeks,  and  still  does  so,  in  the  mysteries  of 
religion '?  And  whose  son  was  Codrus,  that  reigned  at 
Athens,  but  of  that  Melanthus  who  was  banished  from 
Messene  ?  Will  you  not  commend  that  speech  of  Antis- 
thenes,  who,  when  one  said  to  him,  Phrygia  is  thy  mother, 
replied.  She  was  also  the  mother  of  the  Gods  ?  And  if 
any  one  reproach  thee  with  thy  banishment,  why  canst  not 
thou  answer,  that  the  father  of  the  great  conqueror  Her¬ 
cules  was  an  exile  ]  And  so  was  Cadmus  the  grandfather 
of  Bacchus,  who,  being  sent  abroad  in  search  for  Europa, 
did  return  no  more  : 

Sprung  from  Phoenicia,  to  Thebes  he  came  ; 

Thebes  to  his  grandson  Bacchus  lays  a  claim, 

Who  there  inspires  with  rage  the  female  rout, 

That  worship  him  by  running  mad  about.* 

As  for  those  things  which  Aeschylus  obscurely  insinuates 
in  that  expression  of  his, 

*  From  the  Phryxus  of  Euripides,  Frag.  816. 


224 


OF  BANISHMENT, 


And  of  Apollo,  chaste  God,  banished  heaven. 

I’ll  favor  my  tongue,  as  Herodotus  phrases  it,  and  say 
nothing. 

Empedocles,  when  he  prefaces  to  his  philosophy  thus,  — 

This  old  decree  of  fate  unchanged  stands,  — 

Whoso  with  horrid  crimes  defiles  his  hands, 

To  long-lived  Daemons  this  commission’s  given 
To  chase  him  many  ages  out  of  heaven. 

Into  this  sad  condition  I  am  hurled. 

Banished  from  God  to  wander  through  the  world,  — 

does  not  here  only  point  at  himself ;  but  in  what  he 
says  of  himself  he  shows  the  condition  of  us  all,  that  we 
are  pilgrims  and  strangers  and  exiles  here  in  this  world. 
For  know,  says  he,  O  men,  that  it  is  not  blood  nor  a  spirit 
tempered  with  it  that  gave  being  and  beginning  to  the  soul, 
but  it  is  your  terrestrial  and  mortal  body  that  is  made  up 
of  these.  And  by  the  soft  name  of  pilgrimage,  he  insinu¬ 
ates  the  origin  of  the  soul,  that  comes  hither  from  another 
place.  And  the  truth  is,  she  flies  and  wanders  up  and  down, 
being  driven  by  the  divine  decrees  and  laws ;  and  after¬ 
wards,  as  in  an  island  surrounded  with  a  great  sea,  as 
Plato  speaks,  she  is  tied  and  linked  to  the  body,  just  like 
an  oyster  to  its  shell,  and  because  she  is  not  able  to  re¬ 
member  nor  relate. 

From  what  a  vast  and  high  degree 
Of  honor  and  felicity 

she  has  removed,  —  not  from  Sardis  to  Athens,  not  from 
Corinth  to  Lemnos  or  Scyros,  but  having  changed  heaven 
and  the  moon  for  earth  and  an  earthly  life,  —  if  she  is 
forced  to  make  little  removes  here  from  place  to  place,  the 
soul  hereupon  is  ill  at  'ease  and  troubled  at  her  new  and 
strange  state,  and  hangs  her  head  like  a  decaying  plant. 
And  indeed  some  one  country  is  found  to  be  more  agree¬ 
able  to  a  plant  than  another,  in  which  it  thrives  and  flour¬ 
ishes  better ;  but  no  place  can  deprive  a  man  of  his  hap¬ 
piness,  unless  he  pleases,  no  more  than  of  his  virtue  and 


OR  FLYING  ONE’S  COUNTRY. 


225 


prudence.  I'or  Anaxagoras  wrote  his  book  of  the  Squar¬ 
ing  of  a  Circle  in  prison ;  and  Socrates,  just  when  he  was 
going  to  drink  the  poison  that  killed  him,  discoursed  of 
philosophy,  and  exhorted  his  friends  to  the  study  of  it  ; 
who  then  admired  him  as  a  happy  man.  But  Phaeton 
and  Tantalus,  though  they  mounted  up  to  heaven,  yet, 
the  poets  tell  us,  through  their  folly  fell  into  the  extremest 
calamities. 


OF  MOEAL  VIKTUE. 


1.  My  design  in  this  essay  is  to  treat  of  that  virtue 
which  is  called  and  accounted  moral,  and  is  chiefly  dis¬ 
tinguished  from  the  contemplative,  in  its  Baving  for  the 
matter  thereof  the  passions  of  the  mind,  and  for  its  form, 
right  reason ;  and  herein  to  consider  the  nature  of  it  and 
how  it  subsists,  and  whether  that  part  of  the  soul  wherein 
it  resides  be  endowed  with  reason  of  its  own,  inherent  in 
itself,  or  whether  it  participates  of  that  which  is  foreign ; 
and  if  the  latter,  whether  it  does  this  after  the  manner  of 
those  things  which  are  mingled  with  what  is  better  than 
themselt’es,  or  whether,  as  being  distinct  itself  but  yet  under 
the  dominion  and  superintendency  of  another,  it  may  be 
said  to  partake  of  the  power  of  the  predominant  faculty. 
For  that  it  is  possible  for  virtue  to  exist  and  continue  al¬ 
together  independent  of  matter,  and  free  from  all  mixture, 
I  take  to  be  most  manifest.  But  in  the  first  place  I  con¬ 
ceive  it  may  be  very  useful  briefly  to  run  over  the  opinions 
of  other  philosophers,  not  so  much  for  the  vanity  of  giving 
an  historical  account  thereof,  as  that,  they  being  premised, 
ours  may  thence  receive  the  greater  light  and  be  more 
firmly  established. 

2.  To  begin  then  with  Menedemus  of  Eretria,  he  took 
away  both  the  number  and  the  differences  of  virtue,  by 
asserting  it  to  be  but  one,  although  distinguished  by  several 
names ;  holding  that,  in  the  same  manner  as  a  mortal  and 
a  man  are  all  one,  so  what  we  call  temperance,  fortitude, 


OF  MORAL  VIRTUE. 


227 


and  justice  are  but  one  and  the  same  thing.  As  for  Aris- 
ton  of  Chios,  he  likewise  made  virtue  to  be  but  one  in 
substance,  and  called  it  sanity,  which,  as  it  had  respect  to 
this  or  that,  was  to  be  variously  multiplied  and  distin¬ 
guished  ;  just  after  the  same  manner  as  if  any  one  should 
call  our  sight,  when  applied  to  any  white  object,  by  the 
name  of  white-look ;  when  to  one  that  is  black,  by  the 
name  of  black-look ;  and  so  in  other  matters.  For  accord¬ 
ing  to  him,  virtue,  when  it  considers  such  things  as  we 
ought  to  do  or  not  to  do,  is  called  prudence ;  when  it  mod¬ 
erates  our  desires,  and  prescribes  the  measure  and  season 
for  our  pleasures,  temperance ;  and  when  it  governs  the 
commerce  and  mutual  contracts  of  mankind,  justice;  —  in 
the  same  manner,  for  instance,  as  a  knife  is  one  and  the 
same  knife  still,  notwithstanding  sometimes  it  cuts  one 
thing,  sometimes  another,  and  just  as  fire  does  operate 
upon  different  matter,  and  yet  retain  the  very  same  nature. 
Unto  which  opinion  it  seems  also  as  if  Zeno  the  Citian  did 
in  some  measure  incline ;  he  defining  prudence,  while  it 
distributes  to  every  man  his  own,  to  be  justice ;  when  it 
teaches  what  we  are  to  choose  ana  what  to  reject  or  avoid, 
temperance  ;  and  with  respect  to  what  is  to  be  borne  or 
suffered,  fortitude.  But  it  is  to  be  observed,  that  they  who 
take  upon  them  the  defence  of  Zeno’s  notions  do  suppose 
him  to  mean  science  by  what  he  calls  prudence.  But  then 
Chrysippus,  whilst  he  imagined  from  every  distinct  quality 
a  several  and  peculiar  virtue  to  be  formed,  before  he  was 
aware,  raised  (as  Plato  hath  it)  a  whole  swarm  of  virtues 
never  before  known  or  used  among  the  philosophers.  For 
as  from  brave  he  derived  bravery ;  from  mild,  mildness ; 
and  from  just,  justice ;  so  from  pleasant  he  fetched 
pleasantness;  from  good,  goodness;  from  grand,  grandeur; 
and  from  honest,  honesty ;  placing  these  and  all  kind  of 
dexterous  application  of  discourse,  all  kind  of  facetiousness 
of'  conversation,  and  all  witty  turns  of  expression  in  the 


228 


OF  MORAL  VIRTUE. 


number  of  virtues,  thereby  over-running  philosophy,  which 
requires  nothing  less,  with  a  multitude  of  uncouth,  absurd, 
and  barbarous  terms.  , 

3.  However,  all  these  do  commonly  agree  in  this  one 
thing,  in  supposing  virtue  to  be  a  certain  disposition  and 
faculty  of  the  governing  and  directive  part  of  the  soul,  of 
which  rea'son  is  the  cause ;  or  rather  to  be  reason  itself, 
when  it  consents  to  what  it  ought,  and  is  firm  and  immuta¬ 
ble.  And  they  do  likewise  think,  that  that  part  of  the  soul 
which  is  the  seat  of  the  passions,  and  is  called  brutal  or 
irrational,  is  not  at  all  distinct  by  any  physical  difference 
from  that  which  is  rational ;  but  that  this  part  of  the  soul 
(which  they  call  rational  and  directive),  being  wholly 
turned  about  and  changed  by  its  affections  and  by  those 
several  alterations  which  are  wrought  in  it  with  respect 
either  to  habit  or  disposition,  becometh  either  vice  or  vir¬ 
tue,  without  having  any  thing  in  itself  that  is  really  brutal 
or  irrational,  but  is  then  called  brutal  or  irrational,  when  by 
the  over-ruling  and  prevailing  violence  of  our  appetites  it 
,  is  hurried  on  to  something  absurd  and  vicious,  against  the 
judgment  of  reason.  !^or  passion,  according  to  them,  is 
nothing  else  but  depraved  and  intemperate  reason,  that 
through  a  perverse  and  vicious  judgment  is  grown  over- 
veh^ent  and  headstrong. 

Now,  it  seems  to  me,  all  these  philosophers  were  perfect 
strangers  to  the  clearness  and  truth  of  this  point,  that  we 
every  one  of  us  are  in  reality  twofold  and  compound. 
For,  discerning  only  that  composition  in  us  which  of  the 
two  is  most  evident,  namely  that  of  the  soul  and  body,  of 
the  other  they  knew  nothing  at  all.  And  yet  that  in  the 
soul  itself  also  there  is  a  certain  composition  of  two  dis¬ 
similar  and  distinct  natures,  the  brutal  part  whereof,  as 
another  body,  is  necessarily  and  physically  compounded 
with  and  conjoined  to  reason,  was,  it  should  seem,  no  secret 
to  Pythagoras  himself,' — as  some  have  guessed  from  his 


OF  MORAL  VIRTUE.  .  229 

having  introduced  the  study  of  music  amongst  his  scholars, 
for  the  more  easy  calming  and  assuaging  the  mind,  as  well 
knowing  that  it  is  not  in  every  part  of  it  obedient  and 
subject  to  precepts  and  discipline,  nor  indeed  by  reason 
only  to  be  recovered  and  retrieved  from  vice,  but  re¬ 
quires  some  other  kind  of  persuasives  to  co-operate  with 
it,  to  dispose  it  to  such  a  temper  and  gentleness  as  that  it 
may  not  be  utterly  intractable  and  obstinate  to  the  precepts 
of  philosophy.  And  Plato  very  strongly  and  plainly,  with¬ 
out  the  least  hesitation,  maintained  that  the  soul  of  the 
universe  is  neither  simple,  uniform,  nor  uncompounded; 
but  that  being  mixed,  as  it  were,*  and  made  up  of  that 
which  is  always  the  same  and  of  that  which  is  otherwise, 
in  some  places  it  is  continually  governed  and  carried  about 
after  a  uniform  manner  in  one  and  the  same  powerful  and 
predominant  order,  and  in  other  places  is  divided  into  mo¬ 
tions  and  circles,  one  contrary  to  the  other,  unsettled  and 
fortuitous,  —  whence  are  derived  the  beginnings  and  gen¬ 
eration  of  differences  in  things.  And  so,  in  like  manner, 
the  soul  of  man,  being  a  part  or  portion  of  that  of  the 
universe,  and  framed  upon  reasons  and  proportions  answer- 
able  to  it,  cannot  be  simple  and  all  of  the  same  nature  ;  but 
must  have  one  part  that  is  intelligent  and  rational,  which 
naturally  ought  to  have  dominion  over  a  man,  and  another 
which,  being  subject  to  passion,  irrational,  extravagant, 
and  unbounded,  stands  in  need  of  direction  and  restraint. 
And  this  last  is  again  subdivided  into  two  other  parts ; 
one  whereof,  being  called  corporeal,  is  called  concupisci- 
ble,  and  the  other,  which  sometimes  takes  part  with  this 
and  sometimes  with  reason,  and  gives  respectively  to  either 
of  them  strength  and  vigor,  is  called  irascible.  And  that 
which  chiefly  discovers  the  difference  between  the  one  and 
the  other  is  the  frequent  conflict  of  the  intellect  and  rea¬ 
son  with  concupiscence  and  anger,  it  being  the  nature 
of  things  that  are  different  amongst  themselves  to  be 


230 


OF  MORAL  VIRTUE. 


oftentimes  repugnant  and  disobedient  to  what  is  best 
of  all. 

These  principles  at  first  Aristotle  seems  most  to  have 
relied  upon,  as  plainly  enough  appears  from  what  he  has 
written.  Though  afterwards  he  confounded  the  irascible 
and  concupiscible  together,  by  joining  the  one  to  the  other, 
as  if  anger  were  nothing  but  a  thirst  and  desire  of  revenge. 
However,  to  the  last  he  constantly  maintained  that  the 
sensual  and  irrational  was  wholly  distinct  from  the  intel¬ 
lectual  and  rational  part  of  the  soul.  Not  that  it  is  so  ab¬ 
solutely  devoid  of  reason  as  those  faculties  of  the  soul 
which  are  sensitive,  nutritive,  and  vegetative,  and  are  com¬ 
mon  to  us  with  brute  beasts  and  plants  ;  for  these  are  al¬ 
ways  deaf  to  the  voice  of  reason  and  incapable  of  it,  and 
mav  in  some  sort  be  said  to  derive  themselves  from  flesh 
and  blood,  and  to  be  inseparably  attached  to  the  body  and 
devoted  to  the  service  thereof ;  but  the  other  sensual  part, 
subject  to  the  sudden  efforts  of  the  passions  and  destitute 
of  any  reason  of  its  own,  is  yet  nevertheless  naturally 
.  adapted  to  hear  and  obey  the  intellect  and  judgment,  to 
have  regard  to  it,  and  to  submit  itself  to  be  regulated  and 
ordered  according  the  rules  and  precepts  thereof,  unless  it 
happen  to  be  utterly  corrupted  and  vitiated  by  pleasure, 
which  is  deaf  to  all  instruction,  and  by  a  luxurious  way  of 
living. 

4.  As  for  those  who  wonder  how  it  should  come  to  pass, 
that  that  which  is  irrational  in  itself  should  yet  become  ob¬ 
sequious  to  the  dictates  of  right  reason,  they  seem  to  me 
not  to  have  duly  considered  the  force  and  power  of  reason, 
how  great  and  extensive  it  is,  and  how  far  it  is  able  to 
carry  and  extend  its  authority  and  command,  not  so  much 
by  harsh  and  arbitrary  methods,  as  by  soft  and  gentle 
means,  which  persuade  more  and  gain  obedience  sooner 
than  all  the  severities  and  violences  in  the  world.  For 
even  the  spirits,  the  neiwes,  bones,  and  other  parts  of  the 


OF  MORAL  VIRTUE. 


231 


body  are  destitute  of  reason ;  but  yet  no  sooner  do  they 
feel  the  least  motion  of  the  will,  reason  shaking  (as  it 
were),  though  never  so  gently,  the  reins,  but  all  of  them 
observe  their  proper  order,  agree  together,  and  pay  a  ready 
obedience.  As,  for  instance,  the  feet,  if  the  impulse  of 
the  mind  be  to  run,  immediately  betake  themselves  to  their 
office ;  or  if  the  motion  of  the  will  be  for  the  throwing  or 
lifting  up  of  any  thing,  the  hands  in  a  moment  fall  to 
their  business.  And  this  sympathy  or  consent  of  the  bru¬ 
tal  faculties  to  right  reason,  and  the  ready  conformity 
of  them  thereto,  Homer  has  most  admirably  expressed  in 
these  verses : 

In  tears  dissolved  she  mourns  her  consort’s  fate. 

So  great  her  sorrows,  scarce  her  charms  more  great. 

Her  tears  compassion  in  Ulysses  move, 

And  fill  his  breast  with  pity  and  with  love  ; 

Yet  artful  he  his  passion  secret  keeps, 

It  rages  in  his  heart ;  and  there  he  inward  weeps. 

Like  steel  or  ivory,  his  fixed  eyeballs  stand. 

Placed  by  some  statuary’s  skilful  hand  ; 

And  when  a  gentle  tear  would  force  its  way, 

He  hides  it  falling,  or  commands  its  stay.* 

Under  such  perfect  subjection  to  his  reason  and  judgment 
had  he  even  his  spirits,  his  blood,  and  his  tears.  A  most 
evident  proof  of  this  matter  we  have  also  from  hence,  that 
our  natural  desires  and  motions  are  as  soon  repressed  and 
quieted  as  we  know  we  are  either  by  reason  or  law  for¬ 
bidden  to  approach  the  fair  ones  we  at  the  first  view  had 
so  great  a  passion  for  ;  a  thing  which  most  commonly  hap¬ 
pens  to  those  who  are  apt  to  fall  in  love  at  sight  with 
beautiful  women,  without  knowing  or  examining  who  they 
are ;  for  no  sooner  do  they  afterwards  find  their  error,  by 
discovering  the  person  with  whose  charms  they  were  be¬ 
fore  captivated  to  be  a  sister  or  a  daughter,  but  their  flame 
is  presently  extinguished  by  the  interposition  of  reason. 
And  flesh  and  blood  are  immediately  brought  into  order, 


*  Odyss.  XIX.  208. 


232  OF  MORAL  VIRTUE. 

and  become  obedient  fo  the  judgment.  It  often  falls  out 
likewise  that,  after  we  have  eaten  some  kinds  of  meat  or 
fish  finely  dressed,  and  by  that  means  artificially  disguised, 
with  great  pleasure  and  a  very  good  stomach,  at  the  first 
moment  we  understand  they  were  either  unclean,  or  un¬ 
lawful  and  forbidden,  our  judgment  being  thereby  shocked, 
we  feel  not  only  remorse  and  trouble  in  our  mind,  but  the 
conceit  reaches  farther,  and  our  whole  frame  is  disordered 
by  the  nauseous  qualms  and  vomitings  thereby  occasioned. 
I  fear  I  should  be  thought  on  purpose  to  hunt  after  too 
far-fetched  and  youthful  instances  to  insert  in  this  dis¬ 
course,  if  I  should  take  notice  of  the  lute,  the  harp,  the 
pipe  and  flute,  and  such  like  musical  instruments  invented 
by  art,  and  adapted  to  the  raising  or  allaying  of  human 
passions ;  which,  though  they  are  void  of  life  and  sense, 
do  yet  most  readily  accommodate  themselves  to  the  judg¬ 
ment,  to  our  passions  and  our  manners,  either  indulging 
our  melancholy,  increasing  our  mirth,  or  feeding  our  wan¬ 
tonness,  as  we  happen  at  that  time  to  be  disposed.  And 
therefore  it  is  reported  of  Zeno  himself,  that,  going  one 
day  to  the  theatre  to  hear  Amoebeus  sing  to  the  lute,  he 
called  to  his  scholars.  Come,  says  he,  let  us  go  and  learn 
what  harmony  and  music  the  guts  and  sinews  of  beasts, 
nay  even  wood  and  bones  are  capable  of,  by  the  help  of 
numbers,  proportion,  and  order. 

But  to  let  these  -things  pass,  I  would  gladly  know  of 
them,  whether,  when  they  see  domestic  animals  (as  dogs, 
horses,  or  birds)  by  use,  feeding,  and  teaching  brought  to 
so  high  a  degree  of  perfection  as  that  they  shall  utter  ar¬ 
ticulately  some  senseful  words,  and  by  their  motions,  ges¬ 
tures,  and  all  their  actions,  shall  approve  themselves 
governable,  and  become  useful  to  us  ;  and  when  also  they 
find  Achilles  in  Homer  encouraging  horses,  as  well  as  men, 
to  battle; — whether,  I  say,  after  all  this,  they  can  yet 
make  any  wonder  or  doubt,  whether  those  faculties  of  the 


OF  MORAL  VIRTUE. 


233 


mind  to  which  we  owe  our  anger,  our  desires,  our  joys, 
and*  our  sorrows,  be  of  such  a  nature  that  they  are  capable 
of  being  obedient  to  reason,  and  so  affected  by  it  as  to 
consent  and  become  entirely  subject  to  it ;  considering  es¬ 
pecially  that  these  faculties  are  not  seated  without  us,  or 
separated  from  us,  or  formed  by  any  thing  which  is  not  in 
us,  or  hammered  out  by  force  and  violence,  but,  as  they 
have  by  nature  their  entire  dependence  upon  the  soul,  so 
they  are  ever  conversant  and  bred  up  with  it,  and  also  re¬ 
ceive  their  final  complement  and  perfection  from  use,  cus¬ 
tom,  and  practice.  For  this  reason  the  Greeks  very 
properly  call  manners  r^Oog,  custom ;  for  they  are  nothing 
else,  in  short,  but  certain  qualities  of  the  irrational  and 
brutal  part  of  the  mind,  and  hence  by  them  are  so  named, 
in  that  this  brutal  and  irrational  part  of  the  mind  being 
formed  and  moulded  by  right  reason,  by  .long  custom  and 
use  (which  they  call  edog),  has  these  qualities  or  differences 
stamped  upon  it.  Not  that  reason  so  much  as  attempts  to 
eradicate  our  passions  and  affections,  which  is  neither  pos¬ 
sible  nor  expedient,  but  only  to  keep  them  within  due 
bounds,  reduce  them  into  good  order,  and  so  direct  them 
to  a  good  end  ;  and  thus  to  generate  moral  virtue,  consisting 
not  in  a  kind  of  insensibility,  or  total  freedom  from  pas¬ 
sions,  but  in  the  well-ordering  our  passions  and  keeping 
them  within  measure,  which  she  effects  bv  wisdom  and 
prudence,  bringing  the  •  faculties  of  that  part  of  the  soul 
where  our  affections  and  appetite  are  seated  to  a  good 
habit.  For  these  three  things  are  commonly  held  to  be  in 
the  soul,  namely,  a  faculty  or  aptitude,  passion,  and  habit. 
This  aptitude  or  faculty  then  is  the  principle  or  very  mat¬ 
ter  of  passions  ;  as  for  example,  the  power  or  aptitude  to 
be  angry,  to  be  ashamed,  to  be  confident  and  bold,  or  the 
like ;  passion  is  the  actual  exercise  of  that  aptitude  or 
faculty,  as  anger,  shame, .  confidence,  or  boldness  ;  and 
habit  is  the  strength,  firmness,  and  establishment  of  the 


234 


OF  MORAL  VIRTUE. 


disposition  or  faculty  in  the  irrational  part  of  the  soul, 
gotten  by  continual  use  and  custom,  and  which,  according 
as  the  passions  are  well  or  ill  governed  by  reason,  becomes 
either  virtue  or  vice. 

5.  But,  forasmuch  as  philosophers  do  not  make  all  virtue 
to  consist  in  a  mediocrity  nor  call  it  moral,  to  show  the 
difference  more  clearly,  it  will  be  necessary  to  take  our 
rise  a  little  farther  off.  For  of  all  things  then  in  the  uni¬ 
verse,  some  do  exist  absolutely,  simply,  and  for  them¬ 
selves  only ;  others  again  relatively,  for  and  with  regard  to 
us.  Among  those  things  which  have  an  absolute  and 
simple  existence  are  the  earth,  the  heavens,  the  stars,  and 
the  sea ;  and  of  such  things  as  have  their  being  relatively, 
with  respect  to  us,  are  good  and  evil,  things  desirable  and 
to  be  avoided,  and  things  pleasant  and  hurtful.  And  see¬ 
ing  that  both  are  the  proper  objects  of  reason,  —  while  it 
considers  the  former,  which  are  absolutely  and  for  them¬ 
selves,  it  is  scientifical  and  contemplative ;  and  when  the 
other,  which  have  reference  to  us,  it  is  deliberative  and 
practical.  And  as  the  proper  virtue  in  the  latter  case  is 
prudence,  in  the  former  it  is  science.  And  between  the  one 
and  the  other,  namely,  between  prudence  and  science,  there 
is  this  difference.  Prudence  consists  in  a  certain  applica¬ 
tion  and  relation  of  the  contemplative  faculties  of  the  soul  to 
those  which  are  practical,  for  the  government  of  the  sen¬ 
sual  and  irrational  part,  according  to  reason.  To  which 
purpose  prudence  has  often  need  of  Fortune ;  whereas 
neither  of  that  nor  of  deliberation  has  science  any  occa¬ 
sion  or  want  to  attain  its  ends,  forasmuch  as  it  has  nothing 
to  consider  but  such  things  as  remain  always  the  same. 
For  as  a  geometrician  never  deliberates  about  a  triangle, 
whether  all  its  three  angles  be  equal  to  two  right  angles, 
because  of  that  he  has  a  clear  and  distinct  knowledge 
(and  men  use  to  deliberate  about  such  things  only  as  are 
sometimes  in  one  state  or  condition  and  sometimes  in 


OF  MORAL  VIRTUE. 


235 


another,  and  not  of  those  which  are  always  firm  and  im¬ 
mutable),  so  the  mind,  when  merely  contemplative,  exer¬ 
cising  itself  about  first  principles  and  things  permanent, 
such  as  retaining  the  same  nature  are  incapable  of  muta¬ 
tion,  has  no  room  or  occasion  for>.  deliberation.  Whereas 
prudence,. descending  to  actions  full  of  error  and  confusion, 
is  very  often  under  the  necessity  of  encountering  with  for¬ 
tuitous  accidents,  and,  in  doubtful  cases,  of  making  use 
of  deliberation,  and,  to  reduce  those  deliberations  into  prac¬ 
tice,  of  calling  also  to  its  assistance  even  the  irrational 
faculties,  which  are  (as  it  were)  forcibly  dragged  to  go 
along  with  it,  and  by  that  means  to  give  a  certain  vigor  or 
impetus  to  its  determinations.  For  its  determinations  do 
indeed  want  something  which  may  enliven  and  give  them 
such  an  impetus.  And  moral  virtue  it  is  which  gives  an 
impetus  or  vigor  to  the  passions ;  but  at  the  same  time 
reason,  which  accompanies  that  impetus,  and  of  which  it 
stands  in  great  need,  does  so  set  hounds  thereunto,  that 
nothing  but  what  is  moderate  appears,  and  that  it  neither 
outruns  the  proper  seasons  of  action,  nor  yet  falls  short  of 
them. 

For  the  sensual  faculties,  where  passions  are  seated,  are 
subject  to  motions,  some  over- vehement,  sudden,  and  quick, 
and  others  again  too  remiss,  and  more  slow  and  heavy 
than  is  convenient.  So  that,  though  every  thing  we  do  can 
be  good  but  in  one  manner,  yet  it  may  be  evil  in  several ; 
as  there  is  but  one  single  way  of  hitting  the  mark,  but  to 
miss  it  a  great  many,  either  by  shooting  over,  or  under,  or 
on  one  side.  The  business  therefore  of  practical  reason, 
governing  our  actions  according  to  the  order  of  Nature,  is 
to  correct  the  excesses  as  well  as  the  defects  of  the  pas¬ 
sions,  by  reducing  them  to  a  true  mediocrity.  For  as, 
when  through  infirmity  of  the  mind,  effeminacy,  fear,  or 
laziness,  the  vehemence  and  keenness  of  the  appetites  are 
so  abated  that  they  are  ready  to  sink  and  fall  short  of  the 


236 


OF  MORAL  VIRTUE. 


good  at  whicli  they  are  aimed  and  directed,  there  is  then 
this  practical  reason  at  hand,  exciting  and  rousing  and 
pushing  them  .  onward ;  so,  on  the  other  hand,  when  it 
lashes  out  too  far  and  is  hurried  beyond  all  measure,  there 
also  is  the  same  reason  ready  to  bring  it  again  within  com¬ 
pass  and  put  a  stop  to  its  career.  And  thus,  prescribing 
bounds  and  giving  law  to  the  motions  of  the  passions,  it 
produces  in  the  irrational  part  of  the  soul  these  moral 
virtues  (of  which  we  now  treat),  which  are  nothing  else 
but  the  mean  between  excess  and  defect.  For  it  cannot 
be  said  that  all  virtue  consists  in  mediocrity ;  since  wisdom 
or  prudence  (one  of  the  intellectual  virtues);  standing  in 
no  need  of  the  irrational  faculties,  —  as  being  seated  in 
that  part  of  the  soul  which  is  pure  and  unmixed  and  free 
from  all  passions,  —  is  of  itself  absolutely  perfect,  the 
utmost -extremity  and  power  of  reason,  whereby  we  attain 
to  that  perfection  of  knowledge  which  is  itself  most  divine 
and  renders  us  most  happy.  Whereas  moral  virtue,  which 
because  of  the  body  is  so  necessary  to  us,  and,  to  put 
things  in  practice,  stands  in  need  of  the  instrumental  min¬ 
istry  of  the  passions  (as  being  so  far  from  promoting  the 
destruction  and  abolition  of  irrational  powers,  as  to  be 
altogether  employed  in  the  due  regulation  thereof),  is,  with 
respect  to  its  power  or  quality,  the  very  top  and  extremity 
of  perfection ;  but,  in  respect  of  the  proportion  and  quan¬ 
tity  which  it  determines,  it  is  mediocrity,  in  that  it  takes 
away  all  excess  on  the  one  hand,  and  cures  all  defects  on 
the  other. 

6.  Now  mean  and  mediocrity  may  be  differently  under¬ 
stood.  For  there  is  one  mean  which  is  compounded  and 
made  up  of  the  two  simple  extremes,  as  in  colors,  gray, 
of  white  and  black ;  and  another,  where  that  which  con¬ 
tains  and  is  contained  is  the  medium  betwebn  the  contain¬ 
ing  and  the  contained,  as,  for  instance,  the  number  eight, 
between  twelve  and  four.  And  a  third  sort  there  is  also. 


OF  MORAL  VIRTUE. 


237 


which  participates  of  neither  extreme,  as  for  example,  all 
those  things  which,  as  being  neither  good  nor  evil  in  them¬ 
selves,  w’e  call  adiaphorous,  or  indifferent.  But  in  none  of 
these  ways  can  virtue  be  said  to  be  a  mean,  or  mediocrity. 
For  neither  is  it  a  mixture  of  vices,  nor,  comprehending 
that  which  is  defective  and  short,  is  it  comprehended  by 
that  which  runs  out  into  excess  ;  nor  yet  is  it  exempt  from 
the  impetuosity  and  sudden  efforts  of  the  passions,  in  which 
excess  and  defect  do  properly  take  place.  But  moral  vir¬ 
tue  properly  doth  consist  in  a  mean  or  mediocrity  (and  so 
it  is  commonly  taken),  most  like  to  that  which  there  is  in 
our  Greek  music  and  harmony.  For,  whereas  there  are  the 
highest  and  lowest  musical  notes  in  the  extremities  of 
the  scale  called  hete  and  hypate ;  so  likewise  is  there  in 
the  middle  thereof,  between  these  two,  another  musical 
note,  and  that  the  sweetest  of  all,  called  mese  (or  mean), 
■which  does  as  perfectly  avoid  the  extreme  sharpness  of  the 
one  as  it  doth  the  over-flatness  of  the  other.  And  so  also 
virtue,  being  a  motion  and  power  which  is  exercised  about 
the  brutal  and  irrational  part  of  the  soul,  takes  away  the 
remission  and  intention  —  in  a  word,  the  excess  and  de¬ 
fect —  of  the  appetites,  reducing  thereby^every  one  of  the 
passions  to  a  due  mediocrity  and  perfect  state  of  rectitude. 

For  example,  fortitude  is  said  to  be  the  mean  between 
cowardice  and  rashness,  whereof  the  one  is  a  defect,  as 
the  other  is  an  excess  of  the  irascible  faculty ;  liberality, 
between  sordid  parsimony  on  the  one  hand,  and  extrava¬ 
gant  prodigality  on  the  other ;  clemency  between  insen¬ 
sibility  of  injuries  and  its  opposite,  revengeful  cruelty; 
and  so  of  justice  and  temperance ;  the  former  being  the 
mean  between  giving  and  distributing  more  or  less  than  is 
due  in  all  contracts,  affairs,  and  business  between  man  and 
man,  and  the  latter  a  just  mediocrity  between  a  stupid 
apathy,  touched  with  no  sense  or  relish  of  pleasure,  and 
dissolute  softness,  abandoned  to  all  manner  of  sensualities. 


238 


OF  MORAL  VIRTUE. 


And  from  this  instance  of  temperance  it  is,  that  we  are 
most  clearly  given  to  understand  the  difference  between 
^  the  irrational  and  the  rational  faculties  of  the  soul,  and 
that  it  so  plainly  appears  to  us  that  the  passions  and  affec¬ 
tions  of  the  mind  are  quite  a  distinct  thing  from  reason. 
For  otherwise  never  should  we  be  able  to  distinguish  con¬ 
tinence  from  temperance,  nor  incontinence  from  intem¬ 
perance,  in  lust  and  pleasures,  if  it  were  one  and  the  same 
faculty  of  the  soul  wherewith  we  reason  and  judge,  and 
whereby  we  desire  and  covet.  Now  temperance  is  that 
whereby  reason  governs  and  manages  that  part  of  the  soul 
which  is  subject  to  the  passions  (as  it  Avere  some  wild 
creature  brought  up  by  hand,  and  made  quite  tame  and 
gentle),  having  gained  an  absolute  victory  over  all  its  appe¬ 
tites,  and  brought  them  entirely  under  the  dominion  of  it. 
Whereas  Ave  call  it  continence,  Avhen  reason  has  indeed 
gained  the  mastery  over  the  appetites  and  prevailed  against 
them,  though  not  without  great  pains  and  trouble,  they 
being  perverse  and  continuing  to  struggle,  as  not  having 
wholly  submitted  themselves ;  so  that  it  is  not  Avithout 
great  difficulty  able  to  preserve  its  government  over  them, 
being  forced  to  retain  and  hold  them  in,  and  keep  them 
within  compass,  as  it  were,  with  stripes,  Avith  the  bit  and 
bridle,  Avhile  the  mind  all  the  time  is  full  of  nothing  but 
agony,  contentions,  and  confusion.  All  Avhich  Plato  en¬ 
deavors  to  illustrate  by  a  similitude  of  the  chariot-horses 
of  the  soul,  the  one  Avhereof,  being  more  unruly,  not  only 
kicks  and  flings  at  him  that  is  more  gentle  and  tractable, 
but  also  thereby  so  troubles  and  disorders  the  driver  him¬ 
self,  that  he  is  forced  sometimes  to  hold  him  haid  in,  and 
sometimes  again  to  give  him  his  head. 

Lest  from  his  hands  the  purple  reins  should  slip, 

as  Simonides  speaks. 

And  from  hence  we  may  see  Avhy  continence  is  not 


OF  MORAL  VIRTUE. 


239 


thought  worthy  to  be  placed  in  the  number  of  perfect  vir¬ 
tues,  but  is  taken  to  be  a  degree  under  virtue.  For  there 
is  not  therein  produced  a  mediocrity  arising  from  a  sym¬ 
phony  of  the  worst  with  the  better,  nor  are  the  excesses 
of  the  passions  retrenched ;  nor  yet  doth  the  appetite  be¬ 
come  obedient  and  subservient  to  the  reasonable  faculties, 
but  it  both  makes  and  feels  disorder  and  disturbance,  being 
repressed  by  violence  and  constraint,  and  (as  it  were)  by 
necessity ;  as  in  a  sedition  or  faction  in  a  city  or  state,  the 
contending  parties,  breathing  nothing  but  war  and  destruc¬ 
tion  and  ruin  to  one  another,  do  yet  cohabit  together  (it 
may  be)  within  the  compass  of  the  same  walls ;  insomuch 
that  the  soul  of  the  incontinent  person,  with  respect  to  the 
conflicts  and  incongruities  therein,  may  very  properly  be 
compared  to  the  city. 

Where  all  the  streets  are  filled  with  incense  smoke, 

And  songs  of  triumph  mixed  with  groans  resound.* 

And  upon  the  same  grounds  it  is,  that  incontinence  is  held 
to  be  something  less  than  vice  also,  but  intemperance  to 
be  a  complete  and  perfect  vice,  for  therein  not  the  appe¬ 
tite  only  but  reason  lij^ewise  is  debauched  and  corrupted  ; 
and  as  the  former  incites  and  pushes  forward  the  desires 
and  affections  to  that  which  is  evil,  so  this,  by  making  an 
ill  judgment,  is  easily  led  to  consent  and- agree  to  the  soft 
whispers  and  tempting  allurements  of  corrupt  lusts  and 
passions,  and  soon  loseth  all  sense  of  sin  and  evil. 
Whereas  incontinence  preserves  the  judgment,  by  the 
help  of  reason,  right  and  sound ;  but  yet,  by  irresistible 
force  and  violence  of  the  passions,  is  even  against  judg¬ 
ment  drawn  away.  Moreover,  in  these  respects  following 
it  differeth  also  from  intemperance :  —  inasmuch  as  reason 
in  that  is  overpowered  by  passion,  but  in  this  it  never  so 
much  as  struggleth ;  the  incontinent  person,  after  a  noble 
resistance,  is  at  last  forced  to  submit  to  the  tyranny  of  his 

*  Soph.  Oed.  Tyr.  4. 


240 


OF  MORAL  VIRTUE. 


lusts,  and  follow  their  guidance,  while  the  intemperate  ap¬ 
proves  them,  and  gladly  goes  along  with  and  submits  to 
them ;  one  feels  remorse  for  the  evil  he  commits,  while  the 
other  prides  in  lewdness  and  vice.  Again,  the  one  wilfully 
and  of  his  own  accord  runs  into  sin  ;  while  the  other,  even 
against  his  will,  is  forced  to  abandon  that  which  is  good. 

And  this  difference  between  them  is  not  to  be  collected 
only  from  their  actions,  but  may  as  plainly  also  be  dis¬ 
covered  by  their  words.  For  at  this  rate  do  intemperate 
persons  use  to  talk  : 

What  mirth  in  life,  what  pleasure,  what  delight. 

Without  content  in  sports  of  Venus  bright  1 
Were  those  joys  past,  and  I  for  them  unmeet. 

Ring  out  my  knell,  bring  forth  my  winding-sheet.* 

And  thus  says  another : 

To  eat,  to  drink,  to  wench  are  principal, 

All  pleasures  else  I  accessories  call ; 

as  if  from  his  very  soul  he  were  wholly  abandoned  and 
given  up  to  pleasures  and  voluptuousness,  and  even  over 
whelmed  therein.  And  much  of  the  same  mind  was  he, 
and  his  judgment  was  as  totally  depraved  by  his  passions, 
who  said. 

Let  me,  ye  dull  and  formal  fops,  alone, 

I  am  resolved,  ’tis  best  to  be  undone. 

But  quite  another  spirit  do  we  find  running  through  the 
sayings  of  the  incontinent : 

Blame  Nature  only  for  it,  blame  not  me. 

Would  she  permit,  I  then  should  virtuous  be,t 

says  one  of  them.  And  again. 

Ah !  His  decreed  by  Fate.  We  know.  His  true, 

.  We  know  those  virtues,  which  we  ne’er  pursue.t 

And  another. 

What  will  my  swelling  passions’  force  assuage  ? 

No  more  can  I  sustain  this  tempest’s  rage. 

Than  anchor’s  fluke,  dropt  on  loose  ground,  a  storm ; 

*  From  Mimnermus. 

t  From  the  Chrysippus  of  Euripides,  Frag.  837  and  838. 


I 


OF  MORAL  VIRTUE. 


241 


where  not  improperly  he  compares  th%  fluke  of  an  anchor 
dropped  in  loose  ground  to  that  ill-grounded,  feeble,  and 
iiiesolute  leason,  which  by  the  vanity,  weakness,  and  luxury 
of  the  mind  is  easily  brought  to  forsake  the  judgment. 
And  the  like  metaphor  has  the  poet  made  use  of  happily 
enough  in  these  verses : 

To  us,  in  ships  moored  near  the  shore  who  lie, 

Tliough  strong  the  cables,  when  the  winds  rise  high 
Cables  will  prove  but  small  security  ; 

where  by  the  cables  the  poet  means  the  judgment  op¬ 
posing  itself  against  all  that  is  evil  or  dishonest,  which  is, 
however,  oftentimes  disturbed  and  broken  by  violent  and 
sudden  gusts  of  the  passions.  For,  indeed,  the  intemperate 
are  borne  away  directly  and  with  full  sail  to  their  pleasures ; 
^to  them  they  deliver  up  themselves  entirely, -and  thither  it 
is  they  bend  their  whole  course.  While  the  incontinent, 
indirectly  only,  as  endeavoring  to  sustain  and  repel  the 
assaults  of  the  passions  and  withstand  their  temptations, 
either  is  allured  and  as  it  were  slides  into  evil,  or  else  is 
plunged  violently  into  it  whether  he  will  or  no.  As 

Timon,  in  his  bitter  way  of  raillery,  reproaches  Anax- 
archus, 

When  first  the  dogged  Anaxarchus  strove 
The  power  of  virtue  o’er  his  mind  to  prove, 

Firm  though  he  seemed,  and  obstinately  good. 

In  vain  th’  impulse  of  temper  he  withstood. 

Nature  recoiled,  whatever  he  could  do; 

He  saw  those  ills,  which  yet  he  did  pursue ; 

-  In  this  not  single,  other  sophists  too 

Felt  the  same  force,  which  they  could  ne’er  subdue. 

And  neither  is  a  wise  man  continent,  but  temperate ;  nor 
a  fool  incontinent,  but  intemperate ;  the  one  taking  true 
pleasure  and  delight  in  good,  the  other  having  no  dis¬ 
pleasure  against  evil.  And  therefore  incontinence  is  said 
to  be  found  only  in  a  mind  which  is  sophistical  (or  which 
barely  makes  a  show  of  being  governed  and  directed  by 
prudence),  and  which  has  indeed  the  use  of  reason,  but  in 


242 


OF  MORAL  VIRTUE. 

'  SO  weak  and  faint  a  manner,  that  it  is  not  able  to  persevere 
in  that  which  it  knows  to  be  right. 

7.  Thus  we  have  seen  the  diversity  between  inconti¬ 
nence  and  intemperance.  And  as  for  continence  and 
temperance,  their  differences  are  analogous,  and  bear 
proportion  to  those  of  the  other,  but  in  contrary  respects. 
For  remorse,  grief,  and  indignation  do  always  accompany 
continence ;  whereas  in  the  mind  of  a  temperate  person 
there  is  all  over  such  an  evenness,  calmness,  and  firmness, 
that,  seeing  with  what  wonderful  easiness  and  tranquillity 
the  irrational  faculties  go  along  with  reason  and  submit 
to  its  directions,  one  cannot  but  call  to  mind  that  of  the 
poet : 

Swift  the  command  ran  through  the  raging  deep ; 

'  Th’  obedient  waves  compose  themselves  to  sleep ;  * 

reason  having  quite  deadened  and  repressed  the  vehement 
raging  and  furious  motions  of  the  passions  and  affections. 
But  those  whose  assistance  Nature  necessarily  requires 
are  by  reason  rendered  so  agreeable  and  consenting,  so 
submissive,  friendly,  and  co-operative  in  the  execution  of 
all  good  designs  and  purposes,  that  they  neither  outrun  it, 
nor  recede  from  it,  nor  behave  themselves  disorderly,  nor 
ever  show  the  least  disobedience  ;  but  every  appetite  will¬ 
ingly  and  cheerfully  pursues  its  dictates, 

As  sucking  foal  runs  by  his  mother  mare. 

Which  very  much  confirms  what  was  said  by  Xenocrates 
of  those  who  are  true  philosophers,  namely,  that  they 
alone  do  that  voluntarily  which  all  others  do  against  their 
wills  for  fear  of  the  laws ;  being  diverted  and  restrained 
from  the  pursuit  of  their  pleasures,  as  a  dog  is  frightened 
by  a  whipping  or  a  cat  scared  by  a  noise,  having  regard  to 
nothing  else  in  the  matter  but  their  own  danger. 

It  is  manifest  then  from  what  has  been  discoursed,  that 
the  soul  does  perceive  within  itself  something  that  is  fuTH 

♦  Odyss.  XII.  168. 


OF  MORAL  VIRTUE. 


243 


and  immovable,  totally  distinct  from  its  passions  and  appe¬ 
tites,  these  being  what  it  does  always  oppose  and  is  ever 
contending  with.  But  some  there  are,  nevertheless,  who 
affirm  that  reason  and  passion  do  not  materially  differ  from 
one  another,  and  that  there  is  not  in  the  soul  any  faction, 
sedition,  or  dissension  of  two  several  and  contending  facul¬ 
ties,  but  only  a  shifting,  conversion,  or  alteration  of  the 
same  reason  or  rational  faculty  from  one  side  to  the  other, 
backward  and  forward,  which,  by  reason  of  the  sudden¬ 
ness  and  swiftness  of  the  change,  is  not  perceptible  by 
us ;  and  therefore,  that  we  do  not  consider  that  the  same 
faculty  of  the  soul  is  by  nature  so  adapted  as  to  be  ca¬ 
pable  of  both  concupiscence  and  repentance,  of  anger  and 
of  fear,  of  being  drawn  to  the  commission  of  any  lewdness 
or  evil  by  the  allurements  of  pleasure,  and  afterwards  of 
being  again  retrieved  from  it.  And  as  for  lust,  anger, 
fear,  and  such  like  passions,  they  will  have  them  to  be 
nothing  but  perverse  opinions  and  false  judgments,  not 
arising  or  formed  in  any  inferior  part  of  the  soul,  pecu¬ 
liarly  belonging  to  them,  but  being  the  advances  and 
returns,  or  the  motions  forward  and  backward,  the  good 
likenings  and  more  vehement  efforts,  and  (in  a  word)  such 
operations  and  energies  of  the  whole  rational  and  directive 
faculty  as  are  ready  to  be  turned  this  way  or  that  with  the 
greatest  ease  imaginable ;  like  the  sudden  motions  and 
irruptions  in  children,  the  violence  and  impetuosity  where¬ 
of,  by  reason  of  their  imbecility  and  weakness,  are  very 
fleeting  and  inconstant. 

But  these  opinions  are  against  common  sense  and  expe¬ 
rience  ;  for  no  man  ever  felt  such  a  sudden  change  in 
himself,  as  that  whenever  he  chose  any  thing  he  imme¬ 
diately  judged  it  fit  to  be  chosen,  or  that,  on  the  other 
hand,  whenever  he  judged  any  thing  fit  to  be  chosen  he 
immediately  made  choice  of  it.  Neither  does  the  lover 
who  is  convinced  by  reason  that  his  amour  is  fit  to  be 


244 


OF  MORAL  VIRTUE. 


broken  off,  and  that  he  ought  to  strive  against  his  passion, 
therefore  immediately  cease  to  love  ;  nor  on  the  other  side 
doth  he  desist  reasoning,  and  cease  from  being  able  to  give 
a  right  judgment  of  things,  even  then,  when,  being  soft¬ 
ened  and  overcome  by  luxury,  he  delivers  himself  up  a 
captive  to  his  lusts.  But  as,  while  by  the  assistance  of 
reason  he  makes  opposition  to  the  efforts  of  his  passions, 
they  yet  continue  to  solicit,  and  at  last  overcome  him ;  so 
likewise,  when  he  is  overcome  and  forced  to  submit  to 
them,  by  the  light  of  reason  does  he  plainly  discern  and 
know  that  he  has  done  amiss  ;  so  that  neither  by  the  pas¬ 
sions  is  reason  effaced  and  destroyed,  nor  yet  by  reason  is 
he  rescued  and  delivered  from  them ;  but,  being  tossed  to 
and  fro  between  the  one  and  the  other,  he  is  a  kind  of 
neuter,  and  participates  in  common  of  them  both.  And 
those,  methinks,  who  imagine  that  one  while  the  directive 
and  rational  part  of  the  soul  is  changed  into  concupiscence 
and  lust,  and  that  by  and  by  reason  opposes  itself  against 
them,  and  they  are  changed  into  that,  are  not  much  unlike 
them  who  make  the  sportsman  and  his  game  not  to  be 
two,  but  one  body,  which,  by  a  nimble  and  dexterous 
mutation  of  itself,  one  while  appears  in  the  shape  of  the 
huntsman,  and  at  another  turn  puts  on  the  form  of  a  wild 
beast.  For  as  these  in  a  plain  evident  matter  seem  to 
be  stark  blind,  so  they  in  the  other  case  belie  even  their 
own  senses,  seeing  they  must  needs  feel  in  themselves  not 
merely  a  change  or  mutation  of  one  and  the  same  thing, 
but  a  downright  struggle  and  quarrel  between  two  several 
and  distinct  faculties. 

But  is  not,  say  they,  the  deliberative  power  or  faculty 
of  a  man  often  divided  in  itself,  and  distracted  among  sev¬ 
eral  opinions  contrary  to  one  another,  about  that  which  is 
expedient ;  and  yet  is  but  one,  simple,  uniform  thing?  All 
this  we  grant  to  be  true  ;  but  it  does  not  reach  the  case  we 
are  speaking  of.  For  that  part  of  the  soul  where  reason 


OF  MORAL  VIRTUE. 


245 


and  judgment  are  seated  is  not  at  variance  with  itself,  but 
by  one  and  the  same  faculty  is  conversant  about  different 
reasonings ;  or  rather,  there  is  but  one  simple  power  of 
reasoning,  which  employs  itself  on  several  arguments,  as 
so  many  different  subject-matters.  And  therefore  it  is,  that 
no  disturbance  or  uneasiness  accompanies  those  reasonings 
or  deliberations,  where  the  passions  do  not  at  all  interpose. 
Nor  are  we  at  any  time  forced,  as  it  were,  to  choose  any 
thing  contrary  to  the  dictates  of  our  own  reason,  but  when, 
as  in  a  balance,  some  lurking  hidden  passions  lay  some¬ 
thing  in  the  scale  against  reason  to  weigh  it  down.  And 
this  often  falls  out  to  be  the  case,  where  it  is  not  reasoning 
that  is  opposed  to  reasoning,  but  either  ambition,  or  emu¬ 
lation,  or  favor,  or  jealousy,  or  fear,  making  a  show  as  if 
there  were  a  variance  or  contest  between  two  differing  rea¬ 
sons,  according  to  that  of  Homer, 

Shame  in  denial,  in  acceptance  fear ;  * 

and  of  another  poet, 

Hard  fate  to  fall,  but  yet  a  glorious  fate ; 

’Tis  cowardly  to  live,  but  yet  ’tis  sweet. 

And  in  determining  of  controversies  about  contracts  be¬ 
tween  man  and  man,  it  is  by  the  interposition  of  the  pas¬ 
sions  that  so  many  disputes  and  delays  are  created.  So 
likewise  in  the  consultations  and  counsels  of  kings,  they 
who  design  to  make  their  court  incline  not  to  one  side  of 
the  question  or  debate  rather  than,  the  other,  but  only  ac¬ 
commodate  themselves  to  their  own  passions,  without  any 
regard  to  the  interest  of  the  public.  Which  is  the  reason 
that  in  aristocratical  governments  the  magistrates  will  not 
suffer  orators  in  their  pleadings,  by  declaiming  and  ha¬ 
ranguing,  to  raise  the  passions  and  move  the  affections.  For 
reason,  not  being  disturbed  or  diverted  by  passion,  tends 
directly  to  that  which  is  honorable  and  just ;  but  if  the 
passions  are  once  raised,  there  immediately  follows  a  mighty 

*11.  vu.  93. 


246  ' 


OF  MORAL  VIRTUE. 


controversy  and  struggle  between  pleasure  and  grief  on  the 
one  hand,  and  reason  and  judgment  on  the  other.  For  other¬ 
wise  how  comes  it  to  pass,  that  in  philosophical  disputes 
and  disquisitions  we  so  often  and  with  so  little  trouble  are  by 
others  drawn  off  from  our  own  opinions  and  wrought  upon 
to  change  them?  —  and  that  Aristotle  himself,  Democritus, 
and  Chrysippus  have  without  any  concern  or  regret  of  mind, 
nay  even  with  great  satisfaction  to  themselves,  retracted 
some  of  those  points  which  they  formerly  so  much  approved 
of,  and  were  wont  so  stiffly  to  maintain?  For  no  passions 
residing  in  the  contemplative  and  scientifical  part  of  the 
soul  make  any  tumult  or  disturbance  therein,  and  the  irra¬ 
tional  and  brutal  faculties  remain  quiet  and  calm,  without 
busying  themselves  to  intermeddle  in  matters  of  that  kind. 
By  which  means  it  hxlls  out,  that  reason  no  sooner  comes 
within  view  of  truth,  but  rejecting  that  which  is  false  it 
readily  embraces  it ;  forasmuch  as  there  is  in  the  former 
what  is  not  to  be  found  in  the  other,  namely,  a  willingness 
to  assent  and  disagree  as  there  is  occasion ;  whereas  in  all 
deliberations  had,  judgments  made,  and  resolutions  taken 
about  such  things  as  are  to  be  reduced  into  practice,  and 
are  mixed  and  interwoven  with  the  passions  and  affections, 
reason  meets  with  much  opposition,  and  is  put  under  great 
difficulties,  by  being  stopped  and  interrupted  in  its  course 
by  the  brutal  faculties  of  the  mind,  throwing  in  its  way 
either  pleasure  or  fear  or  grief  or  lust,  or  some  such  like 
temptation  or  discouragement.  And  then  the  decision  of 
these  disputes  belongs  to  sense,  which  is  equally  affected 
with  both  the  one  and  the  other;  and  wdiichsoever  of 
them  gets  the  mastery,  the  other  is  not  thereby  destroyed, 
but  (though  struggling  and  resisting  all  the  while)  is  forced 
only  to  comply  and  go  along  with  the  conqueror.  As  an 
amorous  person,  for  example,  finding  himself  engaged  in 
an  amour  he  cannot  approve  of,  has  immediately  recourse 
to  his  reason,  to  oppose  the  force  of  that  against  his  pas- 


OF  MORAL  VIRTUE. 


247 


sion,  as  having  them  both  together  actually  subsisting  in 
his  soul,  plainly  discerning  them  to  be  several  and  distinct, 
and  feeling  a  sensible  conflict  between  the  two,  while  he 
endeavors  (as  it  were)  with  his  hand  to  repress  and  keep 
down  the  part  which  is  inflamed  and  rages  so  violently 
within  him.  But,  on  the  contrary,  in  those  deliberations 
and  disquisitions  where  the  passions  have  nothing  to  do, 
such  I  mean  as  belong  properly  to  the  contemplative  part' 
of  the  soul,  if  the  reasons  are  equally  balanced,  not  in¬ 
clining  more  to  one  side  than  another,  then  is  there  no 
determinate  judgment  formed,  but  there  remains  a  doubt¬ 
ing,  as  if  there  were  a  rest  or  suspense  of  the  understand¬ 
ing  between  two  contrary  opinions.  But  if  there  happen 
to  be  any  inclination  or  determination  towards  one  side, 
that  prevailing  must  needs  get  the  better  of  the  other,  but 
without  any  regret  or  obstinate  opposition  from  it  against 
the  opinion  which  is  received.  In  short,  whenever  the 
contest  seems  to  be  of  reason  against  reason,  in  that  case 
we  have  no  manner  of  sense  of  two  distinct  powers,  but 
of  one  simple,  uniform  faculty  only,  under  different  appre¬ 
hensions  or  imaginations  ;  but  when  the  dispute  is  between 
the  irrational  part  and  reason,  where  nature  has  so  ordered 
it  that  neither  the  victory  nor  the  defeat  can  be  had  with¬ 
out  anxiety  and  regret,  there  immediately  the  two  contend¬ 
ing  powers  divide  the  soul  in  the  quarrel,  and  thereby 
make  the  difference  and  distinction  between  them  to  be 
most  plain  and  evident. 

8.  And  not  only  from  their  contests,  but  no  less  also 
from  the  consequences  that  follow  thereupon,  may  one 
clearly  enough  discern  the  source  and  original  of  the  pas¬ 
sions  to  be  different  from  that  of  reason.  For  since  a  man 
may  set  his  affection  upon  an  ingenuous  and  virtuously  dis¬ 
posed  child,  and  no  less  also  upon  one  that  is  naughty  and 
dissolute,  and  since  also  one  may  have  unreasonable  and 
indecent  transports  of  anger  against  his  children  or  his 


248 


OF  MORAL  VIRTUE. 


parents,  and  on  the  contrary,  may  justly  and  unblamably 
be  angry  in  their  defence  against  their  enemies  and  tyrants  ; 
as  in  the  one  case  there  is  perceived  a  struggle  and  dispute 
of  the  passions  against  reason,  so  in  the  other  may  be  seen 
a  ready  submission  and  agreement  of  them,  running  to  its 
assistance,  and  lending  as  it  were  their  helping  hand.  To 
illustrate  this  with  a  familiar  example, —  after  a  good  man 
has  in  obedience  to  the  laws  married  a  convenient  wife,  he 
then  in  the  first  place  comes  to  a  resolution  of  conversing 
and  cohabiting  with  her  wisely  and  honestly,  and  of  making 
at  least  a  civil  husband ;  but  in  process  of  time,  custom 
and  constant  familiarity  having  bred  within  him  a  true 
passion  for  her,  he  sensibly  finds  that  upon  principles  of 
reason  his  affection  and  love  for  her  are  every  day  more 
and  more  improved  and  grow  upon  him.  So  in  like  man¬ 
ner,  young  men  having  met  with  kind  and  gentle  masters, 
to  guide  and  inform  their  minds  in  the  study  of  philosophy 
and  sciences,  make  use  of  them  at  first  for  instruction  only 
and  information,  but  afterwards  come  to  have  such  an  affec¬ 
tion  for  them,  that  from  familiar  companions  and  scholars 
they  become  their  lovers  and  admirers,  and  are  so  accounted. 
And  the  same  happens  also  to  most  men,  with  respect  to 
good  magistrates  in  the  commonwealth,  to  their  neighbors, 
and  to  their  kindred  ;  for,  beginning  an  acquaintance  upon 
necessity  and  interest,  for  the  exchange  of  the  common 
offices  of  intercourse  and  commerce  with  one  another,  they 
do  afterwards  by  degrees,  ere  they  are  aware,  grow  to  have 
-  a  love  and  friendship  for  them ;  reason  in  such  and  the 
like  cases  having  over-persuaded  and  even  compelled  the 
passions  to  take  delight  in  and  pursue  what  it  before  had 
approved  of  and  consented  to.  As  for  the  poet  who  said. 

Of  modesty  two  kinds  there  be ; 

The  one  we  cannot  blame, 

The  other  troubleth  many  a  house. 

And  doth  decay  the  same  ;  * 

*  Eurip.  Hippol.  384. 


OF  MORAL  VIRTUE. 


249 


doth  he  not  plainly  hereby  intimate,  that  he  had  often¬ 
times  found  by  experience  that  this  affection  of  the  mind, 
by  a  sheepish,  shamefaced  backwardness,  and  by  foolishly 
bashful  delays  against  all  reason,  had  lost  him  the  oppor¬ 
tunities  and  seasons  of  making  his  fortune,  and  hindered 
and  disappointed  many  brave  actions  and  noble  enter¬ 
prises  1 

9.  But  these  men,  though  by  the  force  of  these  argu¬ 
ments  sufficiently  convinced,  do  yet  seek  for  evasions,  by 
calling  shame  by  the  name  of  modesty,  pleasures  by  that 
of  joy,  and  fear  by  that  of  caution.  No  man  would  go 
about  to  blame  them  for  giving  things  the  softest  names 
they  can  invent,  if  they  would  be  so  just  as  to  bestow  these 
good  words  upon  those  passions  and  affections  only  which 
have  put  themselves  under  the  conduct  and  direction  of 
reason,  and  leave  those  which  oppose  reason  and  offer  vio¬ 
lence  to  it  to  be  called  by  their  own  proper  and  odious 
names.  But,  when  fully  convinced  by  the  tears  they  shed, 
by  the  trembling  of  their  joints,  and  by  their  sudden  chang¬ 
ing  of  color  back  and  forward,  if  instead  of  plainly  calling 
the  passions  whereof  these  are  the  effects  grief  and  fear,  they 
make  use  of  the  fantastic  terms  of  compunctions  and  con- 
turbations,  and  to  varnish  over  and  disguise  the  lusts  and 
affections,  give  them  the  name  only  of  so  many  forward¬ 
nesses  of  mind,  and  I  know  not  what  else,  they  seem  not 
to  act  like  philosophers,  but,  relying  upon  little  shifts  and 
sophistical  artifices,  under  an  amusement  of  strange  words, 
they  vainly  hope  to  cover  and  conceal  the  nature  of 
things. 

And  yet  even  these  men  themselves  sometimes  make  use 
of  very  proper  terms  to  express  these  matters  ;  as,  for  in¬ 
stance,  when  they  call  those  joys,  volitions,  and  cautions 
of  theirs,  not  by  the  name  of  apathies,  as  if  they  were  de¬ 
void  of  all  manner  of  passions,  but  of  eupathies.  For 
then  is  there  said  to  be  an  eupathy,  or  good  disposition  of 


250 


OF  MORAL  VIRTUE. 


the  affections,  when  reason  hath  not  utterly  destroyed,  but 
composed  and  adjusted  them  in  the  minds  of  discreet  and 
temperate  persons.  But  what  then  becomes  of  vicious 
and  dissolute  persons'?  Why,  if  they  should  judge  it  rea¬ 
sonable  to  love  their  parents,  instead  of  a  mistress  or  a 
gallant,  are  they  unable  to  perform  this  ;  but  should  they 
judge  it  fitting  to  set  their  hearts  upon  a  strumpet  or  a 
parasite,  the  judgment  is  no  sooner  made,  but  they  are 
most  desperately  in  love'?  Now  were  the  passions  and 
judgment  one,  it  could  not  be  but  that  the  passions  of  love 
and  hatred  would  immediately  follow  upon  judgments  made 
what  to  love  and  hate.  But  we  see  the  contrary  often  hap¬ 
pen  ;  for  the  passions,  as  they  submit  to  some  resolutions  and 
judgments,  so  others  again  they  oppose  themselves  to,  and 
refuse  to  comply  with.  Whence  it  is  that,  compelled  there¬ 
to  by  truth  and  the  evidence  of  things,  they  do  not  affirm 
every  judgment  and  determination  of  reason  to  be  passion, 
but  that  only  which  excites  too  violent  and  inordinate  an 
appetite  ;  acknowledging  thereby  that  the  faculty  we  have 
in  us  of  judging  is  quite  another  thing  than  that  which  is 
susceptible  of  the  passions,  as  is  that  also  which  moveth 
from  that  which  is  moved.  Nay,  even  Chrysippus  himself, 
in  many  places  defining  patience  and  continence  to  be 
habits  of  submitting  to  and  pursuing  the  choice  and  direc¬ 
tion  of  right  reason,  doth  thereby  make  it  apparent  that 
by  the  force  of  truth  he  was  driven  to  confess  that  it  is 
one  thing  in  us  which  is  obedient  and  submissive,  but 
another  and  quite  a  different  thing  which  it  obeys  when 
it  submits,  but  resists  when  it  does  not  submit. 

10.  Now,  as  for  those  who  make  all  sins  and  faults  to 
be  equal,  to  examine  whether  in  other  matters  they  have 
not  also  departed  from  the  truth  is  not  at  this  time  and  in 
this  place  seasonable ;  since  they  seem  not  herein  only, 
but  in  most  things  else,  to  advance  unreasonable  paradoxes 
against  common  sense  and  experience.  For  according  to 


OF  MOEAL  VIRTUE. 


I 


251 


them,  all  our  passions  and  affections  are  so  many  faults, 
and  whosoever  grieves,  fears,  or  desires,  commits  sin.  But, 
with  their  leave,  nothing  is  more  visible  and  apparent  than 
the  mighty  difference  in  those  and  all  other  passions,  ac¬ 
cording  as  we  are  more  or  less  affected  with  them.  For 
will  any  man  say  that  the  fear  of  Dolon  was  no  more  than 
that  of  Ajax,  who,  being  forced  to  give  way  before  the 
enemy, 

Sometimes  retreated  back,  then  faced  about, 

And  step  by  step  retired  at  once,  and  fought  1  * 

Or  compare  the  grief  of  Plato  for  the  death  of  Socrates  to 
the  sorrow  and  anguish  of  mind  which  Alexander  felt, 
when,  for  having  murdered  Clitus,  he  attempted  to  lay 
violent  hands  upon  himself.  For  our  grief  is  commonly 
increased  and  augmented  above  measure  by  sudden  and 
unexpected  accidents.  And  that  which  surprises  us  on 
the  sudden,  contrary  to  our  hope  and  expectation,  is  much 
more  uneasy  and  grievous  than  that  which  is  either  fore¬ 
seen,  or  not  very  unlikely  to  happen ;  as  must  needs  fall 
out  in  the  case  of  those  who,  expecting  nothing  more  than 
to  see  the  happiness,  advancement,  and  glory  of  a  friend 
or  a  kinsman,  should  hear  of  his  being  put  to  the  most  ex¬ 
quisite  tortures,  as  Parmenio  did  of  his  son  Philotas.  And 
who  will  ever  say  that  the  anger  of  Magas  against  Phile¬ 
mon  can  bear  any  proportion  to  the  rage  of  Nicocreon 
against  Anaxarchus  ?  The  occasion  given  was  in  both 
cases  the  same,  each  of  them  having  severally  been  bitter¬ 
ly  reproached  and  reviled  by  the  other.  For  whereas  Nico¬ 
creon  caused  Anaxarchus  to  be  broken  to  pieces  and  brayed 
in  a  mortar  with  iron  pestles,  Magas  only  commanded  the 
executioner  to  lay  the  edge  of  the  naked  sword  upon  the 
neck  of  Philemon,  and  so  dismissed  him.  And  therefore 
Plato  called  anger  the  nerves  of  the  mind ;  because,  as  it 
may  swell  and  be  made  more  intense  by  sourness  and  ill- 


*11.  XI.  547. 


252 


OF  MORAL  VIRTUE. 


nature,  so  may  it  be  slackened  and  remitted  by  gentleness 
'  and  good-nature. 

But  to  elude  these  and  such  like  objections,  they  will 
not  allow  these  intense  and  vehement  efforts  of  the  pas¬ 
sions  to  be  according  to  judgment,  or  so  to  proceed  from  it 
as  if  that  w^ere  therein  faulty ;  but  they  call  them  cessa¬ 
tions,  contractions,  and  extensions  or  diffusions,  which  by 
the  irrational  part  are  capable  of  being  increased  or  di¬ 
minished.  But  that  there  are  also  differences  of  judgment 
is  most  plain  and  evident ;  for  some  there  are  who  take 
poverty  to  be  no  evil  at  all,  others  who  look  upon  it  as  a 
great  evil,  and  others  again  who  esteem  it  to  be  the  great¬ 
est  evil  and  w^orst  thing  in  the  world,  insomuch  that  rather 
than  endure  it  they  would  dash  themselves  in  pieces  against 
the  rocks,  or  cast  themselves  headlong  into  the  sea.  And 
among  those  who  reckon  death  to  be  an  evil,  some  are  of 
that  opinion,  in  regard  only  that  it  deprives  us  of  the  en¬ 
joyment  of  the  good  things  of  the  world,  as  others  are 
with  respect  to  the  eternal  torments  and  horrible  punish¬ 
ments  under  ground  in  hell.  As  for  bodily  health,  some 
love  it  no  otherwise  than  as  it  is  agreeable'  to  Nature,  and 
very  convenient  and  useful ;  while  others  value  it  as  the 
most  sovereign  good,  in  comparison  whereof  they  make 
no  reckoning  of  riches  or  children,  no,  nor  of  sceptres  and 
crowns. 

Which  make  men  equal  to  the  Gods  above. 

Nor  will  they,  in  fine,  allow  even  virtue  itself  to  signify 
any  thing  or  be  of  any  use,  without  good  health.  So  that 
hence  it  sufficiently  appears  that,  in  the  judgments  men 
idake  of  things,  they  may  be  mistaken  and  very  faulty  with 
respect  to  both  the  extremes  of  too  much  and  too  little ; 
but  I  shall  pursue  this  argument  no  farther  in  this  place. 

Thus  much  may,  however,  fairly  be  assumed  from  what 
has  already  been  said  on  this  head,  that  even  they  them¬ 
selves  do  allow  a  plain  difference  between  the  judgment 


OF  MORAL  VIRTUE. 


253 


and  the  irrational  faculties,  by  means  whereof,  they  say, 
the  passions  become  greater  and  more  vioient;  and  so, 
while  they  cavil  and  contend  about  names  and  words,  they 
give  up  the  very  cause  to  those  who  maintain  the  irrational 
part  of  the  soul,  which  is  the  seat  of  the  passions,  to  be 
several  and  distinct  from  that  faculty  by  which  we  reason 
and  make  a  judgment  of  things.  And  indeed  Chrysippus, 
in  those  books  which  he  wrote  of  Anomology,  —  after  he 
has  told  us  that  anger  is  blind,  not  discerning  oftentimes 
those  things  which  are  plain  and  conspicuous,  and  as 
frequently  casting  a  mist  upon  such  things  as  were  before 
clear  and  evident,  —  proceeds  a  little  farther  in  this  man¬ 
ner:  For,  says  he,  the  passions,  being  once  raised,  not 
only  reject  and  drive  away  reason  and  those  things  which 
appear  otherwise  than  they  would  have  them,  but  violently 
push  men  forward  to  actions  that  are  contrary  to  reason. 
And  then  he  makes  use  of  the  testimony  of  Menander, 
saying, 

X 

What  have  I  done  ?  Where  has  my  soul  been  strayed  ? 

Would  she  not  stay  to  see  herself  obeyed, 

But  let  me  act  what  I  abhorred  but  now  'i 

m_ 

And  again  the  same  Chrysippus  a  little  after  says :  Every 
rational  creature  is  by  Nature  so  disposed  as  to  use  reason 
in  all  things,  and  to  be  governed  by  it ;  but  yet  oftentimes 
it  falls  out  that  we  dispose  and  reject  it,  being  carried  away 
by  another  more  violent  and  over-ruling  motion.  In  these 
words  he  plainly  enough  acknowledges  what  uses  in  such 
a  case  to  happen  on  acccount  of  the  difference  and  contest 
between  the  passions  and  reason.  And  upon  any  other 
ground  it  would  be  ridiculous  (as  Plato  says)  to  suppose  a* 
man  to  be  sometimes  better  than  himself,  and  sometimes 
asrain  worse ;  one  while  to  be  his  own  master,  and  another 
while  his  own  slave. 

11.  For  how  could  it  possibly  be,  that  a  man  should  be 
better  and  worse  than  himself,  and  at  once  both  his  own 


254 


OF  MORAL  VIRTUE. 


master  and  slave,  if  every  one  were  not  in  some  sort 
naturally  double  or  twofold,  having  in  himself  at  the  same 
time  a  better  part  and  a  worse  1  For  so  may  he  be  reckoned 
to  have  a  power  over  himself  and  to  be  better  than  him¬ 
self,  who  has  his  worse  and  inferior  faculties  in  obedience 
and  subjection  to  the  superior  and  more  excellent ;  whereas 
he  who  suffers  his  nobler  powers  to  fall  under  the  govern¬ 
ment  and  direction  of  the  intemperate  and  irrational  part 
of  the  soul  is  less  and  worse  than  himself,  and  has  wholly 
lost  the  command  over  himself,  and  is  in  a  state  which  is 
contrary  to  Nature.  For  by  the  order  of  Nature,  reason, 
which  is  divine,  ought  to  have  the  sovereignty  and^dominion 
over  the  irrational  and  brutal  faculties,  which,  deriving 
their  original  from  the  body,  and  being  incorporated,  as  it 
were,  and  thoroughly  mixed  therewith,  bear  a  very  near 
resemblance  to  it,  are  replenished  with,  and  do  participate 
in  common  of  the  qualities,  properties,  and  passions  there¬ 
of  ;  as  is  plain  from  our  more  vehement  motions  and  efforts 
towards  corporeal  objects,  which  always  increase  or  dimin¬ 
ish  in  vigor  according  to  the  several  changes  and  alter¬ 
ations  which  happen  in  the  body.  From  whence  it  is  that 
young* men  are  in  their  lusts  and  appetites,  because  of  the 
abundance  and  warmth  of  their  blood,  so  quick,  forward, 
hot,  and  furious  ;  whereas  in  old  men  all  natural  fire  being 
almost  extinguished,  and  the  first  principles  and  source  of 
the  affections  and  passions,  seated  about  the  liver,  being 
much  lessened  and  debilitated,  reason  becomes  more  vigor¬ 
ous  and  predominant,  while  the  appetites  languish  and 
decay  together  with  the  body.  And  after  this  manner  it  is 
that  the  nature  of  beasts  is  framed  and  disposed  to  divers 
passions.  For  it  is  not  from  any  strength  or  weakness  of 
thought,  or  from  any  opinions  right  or  wrong  which  they 
form  to  themselves,  that  some  of  them  are  so  bold  and 
venturous,  and  dare  encounter  any  thing,  and  others  of 
them  are  fearful  and  cowardly,  shrinking  at  every  danger ; 


OF  MORAL  VIRTUE. 


255 


but  from  the  force  and  power  of  the  blood,  the  spirits,  and 
the  body  does  this  diversity  of  passions  in  them  arise ;  for 
that  part  where  the  passions  are  seated,  being  derived  from 
the  body,  as  from  its  root,  retains  all  the  qualities  and  pro¬ 
pensions  of  that  from  whence  it  is  extracted. 

Now  that  in  man  there  is  a  sympathy  and  an  agreeable 
and  correspondent  motion  of  the  body  with  the  passions 
and  appetites,  is  proved  by  the  paleness  and  blushings  of 
the  face,  by  the  tremblings  of  the  joints,  and  by  the  palpi¬ 
tation  of  the  heart ;  and,  on  the  contrary,  by  the  diffusion 
or  dilatation  which  we  feel  upon  the  hope  and  expectation 
of  pleasures.  But  when  the  mind  or  intellect  doth  move 
of  itself  alone,  without  any  passion  to  disorder  and  ruffle 
it,  then  is  the  body  at  repose  and  rests  quiet,  having  noth¬ 
ing  at  all  to  do  with  those  acts  and  operations  of  the  mind  ; 
as,  when  it  takes  into  consideration  a  proposition  in 
mathematics  or  some  such  scientifical  thing,  it  calls  not  for 
the  aid  or  assistance  of  the  irrational  or  brutal  faculties. 
From  whence  also  it  is  very  apparent  that  there  are  in  us 
two  distinct  parts,  differing  in  their  powers  and  faculties 
from  one  another. 

12.  In  fine,  throughout  the  whole  world,  all  things  (as 
they  themselves  are  forced  to  confess,  and  is  evident  in 
itself)  are  governed  and  directed,  some  by  a  certain  habit, 
some  by  Nature,  others  by  a  brutal  or  irrational  soul,  and 
some  again  by  that  which  has  reason  and  understanding. 
Of  all  which  things  man  does  in  some  measure  participate, 
and  is  concerned  in  all  the  above-mentioned  differences. 
For  he  is  contained  by  habit,  and  nourished  by  Nature  ;  he 
makes  use  of  reason  and  understanding ;  he  wants  not  his 
share  of  the  irrational  soul ;  he  has  also  in  him  a  native 
source  and  inbred  principle  of  the  passions,  not  as  ad¬ 
ventitious,  but  necessai;y  to  him,  which  ought  not  therefore 
to  be  utterly  rooted  out,  but  only  pruned  and  cultivated. 
For  it  is  not  the  method  and  custom  of  reason  —  in  imita- 


256 


OF  MORAL  VIRTUE. 


tion  either  of  the  manner  of  the  Thracians  or  of  what 
Lycurgus  ordered  to  be  done  to  the  vines  —  to  destroy  and 
tear  up  all  the  passions  and  affections  indifferently,  good 
and  bad,  useful  and  hurtful  together;  but  rather  —  like 
some  kind  and  careful  Deity  who  has  a  tender  regard  to 
the  growth  and  improvement  of  fruit-trees  and  plants  —  to 
cut  away  and  clip  off  that  which  grows  wild  and  rank,  and 
to  dress  and  manage  the  rest  that  it  may  serve  for  use  and 
profit.  For  as  they  who  are  afraid  of  being  drunk  pour 
not  their  wine  upon  the  ground,  but  dilute  it  with  water ; 
so  neither  do  they  who  fear  any  violent  commotion  of  their 
passions  go  about  utterly  to  destroy  and  eradicate,  but 
rather  wisely  to  temper  and  moderate  them.  And  as  they 
who  use  to  break  horses  and  oxen  do  not  go  about  to  take 
away  their  goings,  or  to  render  them  unfit  for  labor  and 
service,  but  only  strive  to  cure  them  of  their  unluckiness 
and  flinging  up  their  heels,  and  to  bring  them  to  be  patient 
of  the  bit  and  yoke,  so  as  to  become  useful ;  after  the 
same  manner  reason  makes  very  good  use  of. the  passions, 
after  they  are  well  subdued  and  made  gentle,  without 
either  tearing  in  pieces  or  over-much  weakening  that  part 
of  the  soul  which  was  made  to  be  obedient  to  her.  In 
Pindar  we  find  it  said : 

As  ’tis  the  horse’s  pride  to  win  the  race, 

And  to  plough  up  the  fruitful  soil 
Is  the  laborious  ox’s  toil, 

So  the  fierce  dog  we  take  the  foaming  boar  to  chase. 

But  much  more  useful  than  these  in  their  several  kinds 
are  the  whole  brood  of  passions,  when  they  become  attend¬ 
ants  to  reason,  and  when,  being  assistant  and  obedient  to 
virtue,  they  give  life  and  vigor  to  it. 

Thus,  moderate  anger  is  of  admirable  use  to  courage  or 
fortitude ;  hatred  and  aversion  for  ill  men  promotes  the 
execution  of  justice ;  and  a  just  indignation  against  those 
who  are  prosperous  beyond  what  they  deserve  is  then  both 


OF  MORAL  VIRTUE. 


257 


convenient  and  even  necessary,  when  with  pride  and  in¬ 
solence  their  minds  are  so  swollen  and  elated,  that  they 
need  to  be  repressed  and  taken  down.  Neither  by  any 
means  can  a  man,  though  he  never  so  much  desire  it,  be 
able  to  separate  from  friendship  a  natural  propension  to 
affection ;  from  humanity  and  good  nature,  tenderness  and 
commiseration ;  nor  from  true  benevolence,  a  mutual  par¬ 
ticipation  of  joy  and  grief.  And  if  they  run  info  an  error 
who  would  take  away  all  love  that  they  may  destroy  mad 
and  wanton  passions,  neither  can  those  be  in  the  right 
who,  for  the  sake  of  covetousness,  condemn  all  other  ap¬ 
petites  and  desires.  Which  is  full  as  ridiculous  as  if  one 
should  always  refuse  to  run,  because  one  time  or  other  he 
may  chance  to  catch  a  fall ;  or  to  shoot,  because  he  may 
sometimes  happen  to  miss  the  mark ;  or  should  forbear  all 
singing,  because  a  discord  or  a  jar  is  offensive  to  the  ear. 
For,  as  in  sounds  the  music  and  harmony  thereof  takes 
away  neither  the  sharpest  nor  the  deepest  notes,  and  in 
our  bodies  physic  procureth  health,  not  by  the  destruction 
of  heat  and  cold,  but  by  a  due  and  proportionable  temper¬ 
ature  and  mixture  of  them  both  together ;  so  in  the  same 
manner  it  happeneth  in  the  soul  of  man,  when  reason 
becomes  victorious  and  triumphant  by  reducing  the  facul¬ 
ties  of  the  mind  which  belong  to  J;he  passions,  and  all 
their  motions,  to  a  due  moderation  and  mediocrity.  And 
excessive  and  unmeasurable  joy  or  grief  or  fear  in  the 
soul  (not,  however,  either  joy,  grief,  or  fear,  simply  in 
itself)  may  very  properly  be  resembled  to  a  great  swelling 
or  inflammation  in  the  body.  And  therefore  Homer,  where 
lie  says, 

A  valiant  man  doth  never  color  change  ; 

Excessive  fear  to  him  is  very  strange,  * 

does  not  take  away  all  fear  (but  that  only  which  is  ex¬ 
treme  and  unmanly),  that  bravery  and  courage  may  not  be 


*  II.  XIII.  284. 


258 


OF  MORAL  VIRTUE. 


thought  to  be  fool-hardiness,  nor  boldness  and  resolution 
pass  for  temerity  and  rashness.  And  therefore  he  that  in 
pleasures  and  delights  can  prescribe  bounds  to  his  lusts  and 
desires,  and  in  punishing  offences  can  moderate  his  rage 
and  hatred  to  the  offenders,  shall  in  one  case  get  the  repu¬ 
tation  not  of  an  insensible,  but  temperate  person,  and  in 
the  other  be  accounted  a  man  of  justice  without  cruelty  or 
bitterness.  Whereas,  if  all  the  passions,  if  that  were  pos¬ 
sible,  were  clean  rooted  out,  reason  in  most  men  would 
grow  sensibly  more  dull  and  inactive  than  the  pilot  of  a 
ship  in  a  calm. 

And  to  these  things  (as  it  should  seem)  prudent  law¬ 
givers  having  regard  have  wisely  taken  care  to  excite  and 
encourage  in  commonwealths  and  cities  the  ambition  and 
emulation  of  their  people  amongst  one  another,  and  with 
trumpets,  drums,  and  flutes  to  whet  their  anger  and  cour¬ 
age  against  their  enemies.  For  not  only  in  poetry  (as 
Plato  very  well  observes),  he  that  is  inspired  by  the  Muses, 
and  as  it  were  possessed  by  a  poetical  fury,  will  make  him 
that  is  otherwise  a  master  of  his  trade  and  an  exact  critic 
in  poetry  appear  ridiculous  ;  but  also  in  fighting,  those  who 
are  elevated  and  inspired  with  a  noble  rage,  and  a  resolu¬ 
tion  and  courage  about  the  common  pitch,  become  invin¬ 
cible,  and  are  not  to  be  withstood.  And  this  is  that  warlike 
fury  which  the  Gods,  as  Homer  will  have  it,  infuse  into 
men  of  honor : 

He  spoke,  and  every  word  new  strength  inspired ; 

and  again : 

This  more  than  human  rage  is  from  the  Gods 

as  if  to  reason  the  Gods  had  joined  some  or  other  of  pas¬ 
sions,  as  an  incitement  or,  if  I  may  so  say,  a  vehicle  to 
push  and  carry  it  forward. 

Nay  we  often  see  these  very  men  against  whom  I  now 
dispute  exciting  and  encouraging  young  persons  with 


*  II.  XV.  262;  V.  185. 


OF  MORAL  VIRTUE. 


259 


praises,  and  as  often  checking  and  rebuking  them  with 
severe  reprimands ;  whereupon  in  the  one  case  there  must 
follow  pleasure  and  satisfaction  as  necessarily  as  grief  and 
trouble  are  produced  in  the  other.  For  reprehension  -and 
admonition  certainly  strike  us  with  repentance  and  shame, 
whereof  this  is  comprehended  under  fear,  as  the  other  is 
under  grief.  And  these  are  the  things  they  chiefly  make 
use  of  for  correction  and  amendment.  Which  seems  to 
be  the  reason  why  Diogenes,  to  some  who  had  magnified 
Plato,  made  this  reply :  What  can  there  be  in  him,  said 
he,  so  much  to  be  valued,  who,  having  been  so  long  a 
philosopher,  has  never  yet  been  known  so  much  as  to 
excite  the  single  passion  of  grief  in  the  mind  of  any  one  ? 
And  certainly  the  mathematics  cannot  so  properly  be  called 
(to  use  the  words  of  Xenocrates)  the  handles  of  philosophy, 
as  these  passions  are  of  young  men,  namely,  bashfulness, 
desire,  repentance,  pleasure,  pain,  ambition  ;  whereon  right 
reason  and  the  law  discreetly  laying  their  salutary  hands 
do  thereby  effectually  and  speedily  reduce  a  young  man 
into  the  right  way.  Agreeably  hereunto  the  Lacedaemo¬ 
nian  instructor  of  youth  was  in  the  right,  when  he  pro¬ 
fessed  that  he  would  bring  it  to  pass  that  youths  under' 
his  care  should  take  a  pleasure  and  satisfaction  in  good 
and  have  an  abhorrence  for  evil,  than  which  there  cannot 
be  a  greater  or  nobler  end  of  the  liberal  education  of 
youth  proposed  or  assigned. 


/ 


CONCERNING  SUCH  WHOM  GOD  IS  SLOW  TO  PUNISH. 


PATROCLEAS,  PLUTARCH,  TIMON,  OLYMPICUS. 

1.  These  and  such  like  things,  O  Quintus!  when  Epi¬ 
curus  had  spoken,  before  any  person  could  return  an 
answer,  while  we  were  busy  at  the  farther  end  of  the  por¬ 
tico,*  he  flung  away  in  great  haste.  However,  we  could 
not  but  in  some  measure  admire  at  the  odd  behavior  of  the 
man,  though  without  taking  any  farthei  notice  of  it  in 
words  ;  and  therefore,  after  we  had  gazed  a  while  one  upon 
another,  we  returned  to  walk  as  we  were  singled  out  in  com¬ 
pany  before.  At  this  time  Patrocleas  first  breaking  silence, 
How  say  ye,  gentlemen?  said  he :  if  you  think  fitting,  why 
may  not  we  discuss  this  question  of  the  last  proposer  as 
well  in  his  absence  as  if  he  were  present?  To  whom 
Timon  replying.  Surely,  said  he, 'it  would  but  ill  become 
us,  if  at  us  he  aimed  upon  his  departure,  to  neglect  the 
arrow  sticking  in  oui  sides.  For  Brasidas,  as  history  re¬ 
ports,  drawing  forth  the  javelin  out  of  his  own  body,  with 
the  same  javelin  not  only  wounded  him  that  threw  it,  but 
slew  him  outright.  But  as  for  ourselves,  we  surely  have  no 
need  to  revenge  ourselves  on  them  that  pelt  us  with  absurd 
and  fallacious  reasonings ;  but  it  will  be  sufficient  that  we 
shake  them  off  before  our  6pinion  has  taken  hold  of  them. 
Then,  said  I,  which  of  his  sayings  is  it  that  has  given  you 
the  greatest  cause  to  be  moved?  For  the  man  dragged 
into  his  discourse  many  things  confusedly,  and  nothing  in 

*  The  scene  of  the  dialogue  is  laid  in  the  temple  of  Delphi.  (C.) 


OF  THOSE  WHOM  GOD  IS  SLOW  TO  PUNISH.  261 


order ;  but  gleaning  up  and  down  from  this  and  the  other 
place,  as  it  were  in  the  transports  of  his  wrath  and  scur¬ 
rility,  he  then  poured  the  whole  in  one  torrent  of  abuse 
upon  the  providence  of  God. 

2.  To  which  Patrocleas :  The  slowness  of  the  Supreme 
Deity  and  his  procrastination  in  reference  to  the  punish¬ 
ment  of  the  wicked  have  long  perplexed  my  thoughts  ;  but 
now,  puzzled  by  these  arguments  which  he  produces,  I 
find  myself  as  it  were  a  stranger  to  the  opinion,  and  newly 
beginning  again  to  learn.  For  a  long  time  I  could  not  with 
patience  hear  that  expression  of  Euripides, 

I 

Does  he  delay  and  slowly  move  ; 

’Tis  but  the  nature  of  the  Gods  above.* 

For  indeed  it  becomes  not  the  Supreme  Deity  to  be  remiss 
in  any  thing,  but  more  especially  in  the  prosecution  of  the 
wicked,  since  they  themselves  are  no  way  negligent  or 
dilatory  in  doing  mischief,  but  are  always  driven  on  by  the 
most  rapid  impetuosities  of  their  passions  to  acts  of  injus¬ 
tice.  For  certainly,  according  to  the  saying  of  Thucydides, 
that  revenge  which  folio w^s  injury  closest  at  the  heels  pres¬ 
ently  puts  a  stop  to  the  progress  of  such  as  make  advantage 
of  successful  wickedness. f  Therefore  there  is  no  debt 
wdth  so  much  prejudice  put  off,  as  that  of  justice.  For  it 
weakens  the  hopes  of  the  person  wronged  and  renders  him 
comfortless  and  pensive,  but  heightens  the  boldness  and 
daring  insolence  of  the  oppressor ;  whereas,  on  the  other 
side,  those  punishments  and  chastisements  that  immediately 
withstand  presuming  violence  not  only  restrain  the  com¬ 
mitting  of  future  outrages,  but  more  especially  bring  along 
with  them  a  particular  comfort  and  satisfaction  to  the  suf¬ 
ferers.  Which  makes  me  no  less  troubled  at  the  saying 
of  Bias,  which  frequently  comes  into  my  mind.  For  thus 
he  spake  once  to  a  notorious  reprobate:  It  is  not  that  I 
doubt  thou  wilt  suffer  the  just  reward  of  thy  wickedness, 

*  Eurip.  Orestes,  420.  t  See  the  speech  of  Cleon,  Thuc.  III.  38. 


262 


CONCERNING  SUCH  WHOM 


but  I  fear  that  I  myself  shall  not  live  to  see  it.  For  what 
did  the  punishment  of  Aristocrates  avail  the  Messenians 
who  were  killed  before  it  came  to  pass  ?  He,  having  be¬ 
trayed  them  at  the  battle  of  Taphrus  yet  remained  unde¬ 
tected  for  above  twenty  years  together,  and  all  that  while 
reigned  king  of  the  Arcadians,  till  at  length,  discovered  and 
apprehended,  he  received  the  merited  recompense  of  his 
treachery.  But  alas  !  they  whom  he  had  betrayed  were  all 
dead  at  the  same  time.  Or  when  the  Orchomenians  had 
lost  their  children,  their  friends,  and  familiar  acquaintance 
through  the  treachery  of  Lyciscus,  what  consolation  was  it 
to  them,  that  many  years  after  a  foul  distemper  seized  the 
traitor,  and  fed  upon  his  body  till  it  had  consumed  his 
putrefied  flesh  ?  —  who,  as  often  as  he  dipped  and  bathed 
his  feet  in  the  river,  with  horrid  oaths  and  execrations 
prayed  that  his  members  might  rot  if  he  had  been  guilty 
of  treachery  or  any  other  villany.  Nor  was  it  possible 
even  for  the  children’s  children  of  the  Athenians  who  had 
been  murdered  long  before,  to  behold  the  bodies  of  those 
sacrilegious  caitiffs  torn  out  of  their  graves  and  transported 
beyond  the  confines  of  their  native  soil.  Whence,  in  my 
opinion,  Euripides  absurdly  makes  use  of  these  expres¬ 
sions,  to  divert  a  man  from  wickedness : 

If  thou  fear’st  heav’n,  thou  fearest  it  in  vain ; 

Justice  is  not  so  hasty,  foolish  man, 

To  pierce  thy  heart,  or  with  contagious  wound 
Or  thee  or  weaker  mortals  to  confound ; 

'  But  with  slow  pace  and  silent  feet  his  doom 

Overtakes  the  sinner,  when  his  time  is  come. 

And  I  am  apt  to  persuade  myself  that  upon  these  and  no 
other  considerations  it  is,  that  wicked  men  encourage  and  ' 
give  themselves  the  liberty  to  attempt  and  commit  all  man¬ 
ner  of  impieties,  seeing  that  the  fruit  which  injustice  yields 
is  soon  ripe,  and  offers  itself  early  to  the  gatherer’s  hand, 
whereas  punishment  comes  late,  and  lagging  long  behind 
the  pleasure  of  enjoyment. 


GOD  IS  SLOW  TO  PL^STLSH. 


263 


3.  After  Patrocleas  had  thus  discoursed,  Olympicus 
taking  him  up,  There  is  this  farther,  said  he,  O  Patrocleas ! 
which  thou  shouldst  have  taken  notice  of ;  for  how  gieat 
an  inconveniency  and  absurdity  arises  besides  from  these 
delays  and  procrastinations  of  divine  justice !  For  the 
slowness  of  its  execution  takes  away  the  belief  of  provi¬ 
dence  ;  and  the  wicked,  perceiving  that  calamity  does  not 
presently  follow  at  the  heels  of  every  enormous  crime,  but 
a  long  time  after,  look  upon  their  calamity  as  a  misfortune, 
and  calling  it  chance,  not  punishment,  are  nothing  at  all 
thereby  reformed  ;  troubled  indeed  they  well  may  be  at  the 
dire  accident  befallen  them,  but  they  never  repent  of  the 
villanies  they  have  committed.  For  as,  in  the  case  of 
the  horse,  the  lashing  and  spurring  that  immediately  pursue 
the  transgression  correct  and  reduce  him  to  his  duty,  but 
all  the  tugging  at  the  bit  and  shouting  which  are  late  and 
out  of  time  seem  to  be  inflicted  for  some  other  reason  than 
to  teach  or  instruct,  the  animal  being  thereby  put  to  pain 
without  understanding  his  error ;  in  like  manner,  were  the 
impieties  of  enormous  transgressors  and  heinous  offenders 
singly  scourged  and  repressed  by  immediate  severity,  it 
would  be  most  likely*  to  bring  them  to  a  sense  of  their 
folly,  humble  them,  and  strike  them  with  an  awe  of  the 
Divine  Being,  whom  they  And  with  a  watchful  eye  behold¬ 
ing  the  actions  and  passions  of  men,  and  feel  to  be  no 
dilatory  but  a  speedy  avenger  of  iniquity ;  whereas  that 
remiss  and  slow-paced  justice  (as  Euripides  describes  it) 
that  falls  upon  the  wicked  by  accident,  by  reason  of  its 
uncertainty,  ill-timed  delay,  and  disorderly  motion,  seems 
rather  to  resemble  chance  than  providence.  So  that  I 
cannot  conceive  what  benefit  there  is  in  these  millstones 
of  the  Gods  which  are  said  to  grind  so  late,f  as  thereby 

•  I  follow  Wyttenbach’s  emendation  fiaTiiar*  av  for  ixoki^  uv.  (G.) 

t  Referring  to  the  verse,  ’O^e  deuv  uMovai  iivTuoi,  uMovai  dh  TienrUf  the  mills  of  the 
Gods  grind  late,  but  they  grind  Jine.  (G.) 


264 


CONCERNING  SUCH  WHOM 


celestial  punishment  is  obscured,  and  the  awe  of  evil  doing 
rendered  vain  and  despicable. 

4.  These  things  thus  uttered,  while  I  was  in  a  deep 
meditation  of  what  he  had  said,  Timon  interposed.  Is  it 
your  pleasure,  said  he,  that  I  shall  give  the  finishing  stroke 
to  the  difficulties  of  this  knotty  question,  or  shall  1  first 
permit  him  to  argue  in  opposition  to  what  has  been  pro¬ 
pounded  already]  Nay  then,  said  I,  to  what  purpose  is  it 
to  let  in  a  third  wave  to  drown  the  argument,  if  one  be 
not  able  to  repel  or  avoid  the  objections  already  made  ] 

To  begin  therefore,  as  from  the  Vestal  hearth,  from  that 
ancient  circumspection  and  reverence  which  our  ancestors, 
being  Academic  philosophers  also,  bare  to  the  Supreme 
Godhead,  we  shall  utterly  decline  to  speak  of  that  myste¬ 
rious  Being  as  if  we  could  presume  to  utter  positively  any 
thing  concerning  it.  For  though  it  may  be  borne  withal, 
for  men  unskilled  in  music  to  talk  at  random  of  notes  and 
harmony,  or  for  such  as  never  experienced  warfare  to  dis¬ 
course  of  arms  and  military  affairs  ;  yet  it  would  be  a  bold 
and  daring  arrogance  in  us,  that  are  but  mortal  men,  to 
dive  too  far  into  the  incomprehensible  mysteries  of  Deities 
and  Daemons,  —  just  as  if  persons  void  of  knowledge 
should  undertake  to  judge  of  the  methods  and  reason  of 
cunning  artists  by  slight  opinions  and  probable  conjectures 
of  their  own.  And  while  one  that  understands  nothing  of 
science  finds  it  hard  to  give  a  reason  why  the  physician  did 
not  let  blood  before  but  afterwards,  or  why  he  did  not  bathe 
his  patient  yesterday  but  to-day ;  it  cannot  be  that  it  is  safe 
or  easy  for  a  mortal  to  speak  otherwise  of  the  Supreme 
Deity  than  only  this,  that  he  alone  it  is  who  knows  the 
most  convenient  time  to  apply  most  proper  corrosives  for 
the  cure  of  sin  and  impiety,  and  to  administer  punishments 
as  medicaments  to  every  transgressor,  yet  being  not  con¬ 
fined  to  an  equal  quality  and  measure  common  to  all  dis¬ 
tempers,  nor  to  one  and  the  same  time.  Now  that  the 


GOD  IS  SLOW  TO  PUNISH. 


265 


medicine  of  the  soul  which  is  called  justice  is  the  most 
transcendent  of  all  sciences,  besides  ten  thousand  other 
witnesses,  even  Pindar  himself  testifies,  where  he  gives  to 
God,  the  ruler  and  lord  of  all  things,  the  title  of  the  most 
perfect  artificer,  as  being  the  grand  author  and  distributer 
of  Justice,  to  whom  it  properly  belongs  to  determine  at 
what  time,  in  what  manner,  and  to  what  degree  to  punish 
every  particular  offender.  And  Plato  asserts  that  Minos, 
being  the  son  of  Jupiter,  was  the  disciple  of  his  father  to 
learn  this  science  ;  intimating  thereby  that  it  is  impossible 
for  any  other  than  a  scholar,  bred  up  in  the  school  of  equi¬ 
ty,  rightly  to  behave  himself  in  the  administration  of  justice, 
or  to  make  a  true  judgment  of  another  whether  he  does 
well  or  no.  For  the  laws  which  are  constituted  by  men  do 
not  always  prescribe  that  which  is  unquestionable  and  sim¬ 
ply  decent,  or  of  which  the  reason  is  altogether  without 
exception  perspicuous,  in  regard  that  some  of  their  ordin¬ 
ances  seem  to  be  on  purpose  ridiculously  contrived ;  par¬ 
ticularly  those  which  in  Lacedaemon  the  Ephori  ordain  at 
their  first  entering  into  the  magistracy,  that  no  man  suffer 
the  hair  of  his  upper  lip  to  grow,  and  that  they  shall  be 
obedient  to  the  laws  to  the  end  they  may  not  seem  grievous 
to  them.  So  the  Pomans,  when  they  asserted  the  freedom 
of  any  one,  cast  a  slender  rod  upon  his  body ;  and  when 
they  make  their  last  wills  and  testaments,  some  they  leave 
to  be  their  heirs,  while  to  others  they  sell  their  estates ; 
which  seems  to  be  altogether  contrary  to  reason.  But  that 
of  Solon  is  most  absurd,  who,  when  a  city  is  up  in  arms 
and  all  in  sedition,  brands  with  infamy  the  person  who 
stands  neuter  and  adheres  to  neither  party.  And  thus  a 
man  that  apprehends  not  the  reason  of  the  lawgiver,  or  the 
cause  why  such  and  such  things  are  so  prescribed,  might 
number  up  several  absurdities  of  many  laws.  What  won¬ 
der  then,  since  the  actions  of  men  are  so  difficult  to  be  un¬ 
derstood,  if  it  be  no  less  difficult  to  determine  concerning 


266 


CONCERNING  SUCH  WHOM 


the  Gods,  wherefore  they  inflict  their  punishments  upon 
sinners,  sometimes  later,  sometimes  sooner. 

5.  Nor  do  I  allege  these  things  as  a  pretence  to  avoid 
the  dispute,  but  to. secure  the  pardon  which  I  beg,  to  the 
end  that  our  discourse,  having  a  regard  (as  it  were)  to  some 
port  or  refuge,  may  proceed  the  more  boldly  in  producing 
probable  circumstances  to  clear  the  doubt.  But  first  con¬ 
sider  this ;  that  God,  according  to  Plato,  when  he  set  him¬ 
self  before  the  eyes  of  the  whole  world  as  the  exemplar  of 
all  that  was  good  and  holy,  granted  human  virtue,  by  which 
man  is  in  some  measure  rendered  like  himself,  unto  those 
that  are  able  to  follow  the  Deity  by  imitation.  For  uni¬ 
versal  Nature,  being  at  first  void  of  order,  received  its  first 
impulse  to  change  and  to  be  formed  into  a  world,  by  being 
made  to  resemble  and  (as  it  were)  partake  of  that  idea  and 
virtue  which  is  in  God.  And  the  self-same  Plato  asserts, 
that  Nature  first  kindled  the  sense  of  seeing  within  us,  to 
the  end  that  the  soul,  by  the  sight  and  admiration  of  the 
heavenly  bodies,  being  accustomed  to  love  and  embrace 
decency  and  order,  might  be  induced  to  hate  the  disorderly 
motions  of  wild  and  raving  passions,  and  avoid  levity  and 
rashness  and  dependence  upon  chance,  as  the  original  of 
all  improbity  and  vice.  For  there  is  no  greater  benefit  that 
men  can  enjoy  from  God,  than,  by  the  imitation  and  pursuit 
of  those  perfections  and  that  sanctity  which  is  in  him,  to 
be  excited  to  the  study  of  virtue.  Therefore  God,  with 
forbearance  and  at  leisure,  inflicts  his  punishment  upon  the 
wicked ;  not  that  he  is  afraid  of  committing  an  error  or  of 
repenting  should  he  accelerate  his  indignation ;  but  to 
eradicate  that  brutish  and  eager  desire  of  revenge  that 
reigns  in  human  breasts,  and  to  teach  us  that  we  are  not 
in  the  heat  of  fury,  or  when  our  anger  heaving  and  palpi¬ 
tating  boils  up  above  our  understanding,  to  fall  upon  those 
who  have  done  us  an  injury,  like  those  who  seek  to  gratify 
a  vehement  thirst  or  craving  appetite,  but  that  we  should, 


GOD  IS  SLOW  TO  PUNISH. 


267 


in  imitation  of  this  mildness  and  forbearance,  wait  with 
due  composure  of  mind  before  we  proceed  to  chastisement 
or  correction,  till  such  sufficient  time  for  consideration  is 
taken  as  shall  allow  the  least  possible  room  for  repentance. 
For,  as  Socrates  observed,  it  is  far  the  lesser  mischief  for  a 
man  distempered  with  ebriety  and  gluttony  to  drink  puddle- 
water,  than,  when  the  mind  is  disturbed  and  over-charged 
with  anger  and  fury,  before  it  be  settled  and  become  limpid 
again,  for  a  man  to  seek  the  satiating  his  revenge  upon 
the  body  of  his  friend  or  kinsman.  For  it  is  not  the  re¬ 
venge  which  is  the  nearest  to  injury,  as  Thucydides  says, 
but  rather  that  which  is  the  most  remote  from  it,  that  ob¬ 
serves  the  most  convenient  opportunity.  For  as  anger, 
according  to  that  of  Melanthius, 

Quite  from  the  brain  transplants  the  wit. 

Vile  acts  designing  to  commit ; 

SO  reason  does  that  which  is  just  and  moderate,  laying  pas¬ 
sion  and  fury  aside.  Whence  it  comes  to  pass  that  men, 
giving  ear  to  human  examples,  become  more  mansuete  and 
gentle ;  as  when  they  hear  how  Plato,  holding  his  cudgel 
over  his  page’s  shoulders,  as  himself  relates,  paused  a  good 
while,  correcting  his  own  anger ;  and  how  in  like  manner 
Archytas,  observing  the  sloth  and  wilful  negligence  of  his 
servants  in  the  field,  and  perceiving  his  passion  to  rise  at  a 
more  than  usual  rate,  did  nothing  at  all ;  but  as  he  went 
away.  It  is  your  good  fortune,  said  he,  that  ye  have  angered 
me.  If  then  the  sayings  of  men  when  called  to  mind,  and 
their  actions  being  told,  have  such  a  power  to  mitigate  the 
roughness  and  vehemency  of  wrath,  much  more  becomes  it 
us,  beholding  God,  with  whom  there  is  neither  dread  nor 
repentance  of  any  thing,  deferring  nevertheless  his  pun¬ 
ishments  to  future  time  and  admitting  delay,  to  be  cautious 
and  circumspect  in  these  matters,  and  to  deem  as  a  divine 
part  of  virtue  that  mildness  and  long-sutfering  of  which 
God  affords  us  an  example,  while  by  punishing  he  reforms 


268 


CONCERNING  SUCH  WHOM 


some  few,  but  by  slowly  punishing  he  helpeth  and  admon¬ 
ish  eth  many. 

6.  In  the  second  place,  therefore,  let  us  consider  this, 
that  human  punishments  of  injuries  regard  no  more  than 
that  the  party  suffer  in  his  turn,  and  are  satisfied  when 
the  offender  has  suffered  according  to  his  merit ;  and 
farther  they  never  proceed.  Which  is  the  reason  that 
they  run  after  provocations,  like  dogs  that  bark  in  their 
fury,  and  immediately  pursue  the  injury  as  soon  as  com¬ 
mitted.  But  probable  it  is  that  God,  whatever  distem¬ 
pered  soul  it  be  which  he  prosecutes  with  his  divine  justice, 
observes  the  motions  and  inclinations  of  it,  whether  they 
be  such  as  tend  to  repentance,  and  allows  time  for  the 
reformation  of  those  whose  wickedness  is  neither  invin¬ 
cible  nor  incorrigible.  For,  since  he  well  knows  what  a 
proportion  of  virtue  souls  carry  along  with  them  from  him¬ 
self'  when  they  come  into  the  world,  and  how  strong  and 
vigorous  their  innate  and  primitive  good  yet  continues,  — 
while  wickedness  buds  forth  only  preternaturally  upon  the 
corruption  of  bad  diet  and  evil  conversation,  and  even 
then  some  souls  recover  again  to  perfect  cure  or  an  indif¬ 
ferent  habitude,  —  therefore  he  doth  not  make  haste  to 
inflict  his  punishments  alike  upon  all.  But  those  that  are 
incurable  he  presently  lops  off  and  deprives  of  life,  deem¬ 
ing  it  altogether  hurtful  to  others,  but  most  baneful  to 
themselves,  to  be  always  wallowing  in  wickedness.  But 
as  for  those  who  may  probably  be  thought  to  transgress 
rather  out  of  ignorance  of  what  is  virtuous  and  good,  than 
through  choice  of  what  is  foul  and  vicious,  he  grants  them 
time  to  turn ;  but  if  they  remain  obdurate,  then  likewise 
he  inflicts  his  punishments  upon  them ;  for  he  has  no  fear 
lest  they  should  escape. 

Now  let  us  consider  how  oft  the  characters  and  lives  of 
men  are  changed  ;  for  which  reason,  the  character  is  called 
zQOTtogy  as  being  the  changeable  part,  and  also  7jdog,  since  cus- 


GOD  IS  SLOW  TO  PUNISH. 


269 


tom  {idog)  chiefly  prevails  in  it  and  rules  with  the  greatest 
power  when  it  has  seized  upon  it.  Therefore*!  am  of 
opinion,  that  the  ancients  reported  Cecrops  to  have  had 
two  bodies,  not,  as  some  believe,  because  of  a  good  king 
he  became  a  merciless  and  dragon-like  tyrant,  but  rather, 
on  the  contrary,  for  that  being  at  first  both  cruel  and 
formidable,  afterwards  he  became  a  most  mild  and  gentle 
prince.  However,  if  this  be  uncertain,  yet  we  know  both 
Gelo  and  Hiero  the  Sicilians,  and  Pisistratus  the  son  of 
Hippocrates,  who,  having  obtained  the  sovereignty  by  vio¬ 
lence  and  wickedness,  made  a  virtuous  use  of  their  power, 
and  coming  unjustly  to  the  throne,  became  moderate  rulers 
and  beneficial  to  the  public.  For,  by  recommending  whole¬ 
some  laws  and  the  exercise  of  useful  tillage  to  their  sub¬ 
jects,  they  reduced  them  from  idle  scoffers  and  talkative 
romancers  to  be  modest  citizens  and  industrious  good  hus¬ 
bands.  And  as  for  Gelo,  after  he  had  been  successful  in 
his  war  and  vanquished  the  Carthaginians,  he  refused  to 
grant  them  the  peace  which  they  sued  for,  unless  they 
would  consent  to  have  it  inserted  in  their  articles  that  they 
would  surcease  from  sacrificing  their  children  to  Saturn. 

Over  Megalopolis  Lydiadas  was  tyrant ;  but  then,  even 
in  the  time  of  his  tyranny,  changing  his  manners  and 
maxims  of  government  and  growing  into  a  hatred  of  in¬ 
justice,  he  restored  to  the  citizens  their  laws,  and  fighting 
for  his  country  against  his  own  and  his  subjects’  enemies, 
fell  an  illustrious  victim  for  his  country’s  welfare.  Now  if 
any  one,  bearing  an  antipathy  to  Miltiades  or  Cimon,  had 
slain  the  one  tyrannizing  in  the  Chersonese  or  the  other 
committing  incest  with  his  own  sister,  or  had  expelled 
Themistocles  out  of  Athens  at  what  time  he  lay  rioting 
and  revelling  in  the  market-place  and  affronting  all  that 
came  near  him,  according  to  the  sentence  afterwards  pro¬ 
nounced  against  Alcibiades,  had  we  not  lost  Marathon,  the 
Eurymedon,  and  lovely  Artemisium, 


270 


CONCERNING  SUCH  WHOM 


Where  the  Athenian  youth 

The  famed  foundations  of  their  freedom  laid  ?  * 

For  great  and  lofty  geniuses  produce  nothing  that  is  mean 
and  little ;  the  innate  smartness  of  their  parts  will  not 
endure  the  vigor  and  activity  of  their  spirits  to  grow  lazy ; 
but  they  are  tossed  to  and  again,  as  with  the  waves,  by  the 
rolling  motions  of  their  own  inordinate  desire,  till  at  length 
they  arrive  to  a  stable  and  settled  constitution  of  manners. 
Therefore,  as  a  person  that  is  unskilful  in  husbandry 
would  by  no  means  make  choice  of  a  piece  of  ground 
quite  overrun  with  brakes  and  weeds,  abounding  with  wild 
beasts,  running  streams,  and  mud  ;  while,  to  him  who  hath 
learnt  to  understand  the  nature  of  the  earth,  these  are  cer¬ 
tain  symptoms  of  the  softness  and  fertility  of  the  soil ;  thus 
great  geniuses  many  times  produce  many  absurd  and  vile 
enormities,  of  which  we  not  enduring  the  rugged  and 
uneasy  vexation,  are  presently  for  pruning  and  lopping  off 
the  lawless  transgressors.  But  the  more  prudent  judge, 
who  discerns  the  abounding  goodness  and  generosity 
covertly  residing  in  those  transcendent  geniuses,  waits  the 
co-operating  age  and  season  for  reason  and  virtue  to  exert 
themselves,  and  gathers  the  ripe  fruit  when  Nature  has 
matured  it.  And  thus  much  as  to  those  particulars. 

7.  Now  to  come  to  another  part  of  our  discourse,  do  you 
not  believe  that  some  of  the  Greeks  did  very  prudently  to 
register  that  law  in  Egypt  among  their  own,  whereby  it  is 
enacted  that,  if  a  woman  with  child  be  sentenced  to  die, 
she  shall  be  reprieved  till  she  be  delivered  1  All  the  reason 
in  the  world,  you  will  say.  Then,  say  I,  though  a  man 
cannot  bring  forth  children,  yet  if  he  be  able,  by  the  assist¬ 
ance  of  Time,  to  reveal  any  hidden  action  or  conspiracy, 
or  to  discover  some  concealed  mischief,  or  to  be  author  of 
some  wholesome  piece  of  advice,  —  or  suppose  that  in  time 
he  may  produce  some  necessary  and  useful  invention,  —  is 


*  From  Pindar. 


GOD  IS  SLOW  TO  PUNISH. 


271 


it  not  better  to  delay  the  punishment  and  expect  the  benefit, 
than  hastily  to  rid  him  out  of  the  world  ]  It  seems  so  to  me, 
said  I.  And  truly  you  are  in  the  right,  replied  Patrocleas  ; 
for  let  us  consider,  had  Dionysius  at  the  beginning  of  his 
tyranny  suffered  according  to  his  merits,  never  would  any 
of  the  Greeks  have  re-inhabited  Sicily,  laid  waste  by  the 
Carthaginians.  Nor  would  the  Greeks  have  repossessed 
Apollonia,  nor  Anactorium,  nor  the  peninsula  of  the 
Leucadians,  had  not  Periander’s  execution  been  delayed 
for  a  long  time.  And  if  I  mistake  not,  it  was  to  the  delay 
of  Cassander’s  punishment  that  the  city  of  Thebes  was 
beholden  for  her  recovery  from  desolation.  But  the  most 
of  those  barbarians  who  assisted  at  the  sacrilegious  plun¬ 
der  of  this  temple,  *  following  Timoleon  into  Sicily,  after 
they  had  vanquished  the  Carthaginians  and  dissolved  the 
tyrannical  government  of  that  island,  wicked  as  they  were, 
came  all  to  a  wicked  end.  So  the  Deity  makes  use  of 
some  wicked  persons  as  common  executioners  to  punish 
the  wickedness  of  others,  and  then  destroys  those  instru¬ 
ments  of  his  wrath,  —  which  I  believe  to  be  true  of  most 
tyrants.  For  as  the  gall  of  a  hyena  and  the  rennet  of 
a  sea-calf  —  both  filthy  monsters  —  contain  something  in 
them  for  the  cure  of  diseases ;  so  when  some  people  de¬ 
serve  a  sharp  and  biting  punishment,  God,  subjecting  them 
to  the  implacable  severity  of  some  certain  tyrant  or  the 
cruel  oppression  of  some  ruler,  does  not  remove  either 
the  torment  or  the  trouble,  till  he  has  cured  and  purified 
the  distempered  nation.  Such  a  sort  of  physic  was '  Pha- 
laris  to  the  Agrigentines,  and  Marius  to  the  Pomans.  And 
God  expressly  foretold  the  Sicyonians  how  much  their  city 
stood  in  need  of  most  severe  chastisement,  when,  after 
they  had  violently  ravished  out  of  the  hands  of  the  Cleo- 
naeans  Teletias,  a  young  lad  who  had  been  crowned  at  the 
Pythian  games,  they  tore  him  limb  from  limb,  as  their  own 

*  That  is,  in  the  Sacred  or  Phocian  war,  357-346  b.c.  (G.) 


272 


CONCERNING  SUCH  WHOM 


fellow-citizen.  Therefore  Orthagoras  the  tyrant,  and  after 
him  Myro  and  Clisthenes,  put  an  end  to  the  luxury  and 
lasciviousness  of  the  Sicyonians ;  but  the  Cleonaeans,  not 
having  the  good  fortune  to  meet  with  the  same  cure,  went 
all  to  wreck.  To  this  purpose,  hear  what  Homer  says : 

From  parent  vile  by  far  the  better  son 

Did  spring,  whom  various  virtues  did  renown,  ♦ 

And  yet  we  do  not  find  that  ever  the  son  of  Copreus  per¬ 
formed  any  famous  or  memorable  achievement ;  but  the 
offspring  of  Sisyphus,  Autolycus,  and  Phlegyas  flourished 
among  the  number  of  the  most  famous  and  virtuous  princes. 
Pericles  at  Athens  descended  from  an  accursed  family ;  and 
Pompey  the  Great  at  Pome  was  the  son  of  Strabo,  whose 
dead  body  the  Poman  people,  in  the  height  of  their  hatred 
conceived  against  him  when  alive,  cast  forth  into  the  street 
and  trampled  in  the  dirt.  Where  is  the  absurdity  then,  — 
as  the  husbandman  never  cuts  away  the  thorn  till  it  injures 
the  asparagus,  or  as  the  Libyans  never  burn  the  stalks  till 
they  have  gathered  all  the  ladanum,  —  if  God  never  extir¬ 
pates  the  evil  and  thorny  root  of  a  renowned  and  royal 
race  before  he  has  gathered  from  it  the  mature  and  proper 
fruit?  For  it  would  have  been  far  better  for  the  Phocians 
to  have  lost  ten  thousand  of  Iphitus’s  horses  and  oxen,  or 
a  far  greater  sum  in  gold  and  silver  from  the  temple  of 
Delphi,  than  that  Ulysses  and  Aesculapius  should  not  have 
been  born,  and  those  many  others  who,  of  wicked  and 
vicious  men,  became  highly  virtuous  and  beneficial  to  their 
country. 

8.  And  should  we  not  think  it  better  to  inflict  deserved 
punishments  in  due  season  and  by  convenient  means, 
than  hastily  and  rashly  when  a  man  is  in  the  heat  and 
hurry  of  passion?  Witness  the  example  of  Callippus, 
who,  having  stabbed  Dio  under  the  pretence  of  being  his 
friend,  was  himself  soon  after  slain  by  Dio’s  intimates  with 


^  U.  XV.  641. 


GOD  IS  SLOW  TO  PUNISH. 


273 


the  same  dagger.  Thus  again,  when  Mitius  of  Argos  was 
slain  in  a  city  tumult,  the  brazen  statue  which  stood  in  the 
market-place,  soon  after,  at  the  time  of  the  public  shows, 
fell  down  upon  the  murderer’s  head  and  killed  him.  What 
befell  Bessus  the  Paeonian,  and  Aristo  the  Oetaean,  chief 
commander  of  the  foreign  soldiers,  I  suppose  you  under¬ 
stood  full  well,  Patrocleas.  Not  I,  by  Jove,  said  he,  but  I 
desire  to  know.  Well  then,  I  say,  this  Aristo,  having  with 
permission  of  the  tyrants  carried  away  the  jewels  and 
ornaments  belonging  to  Eriphyle,  which  lay  deposited  in 
this  temple,  made  a  present  of  then}  to  his  wife.  The 
punishment  of  this  was  that  the  son,  being  highly  incensed 
against  his  mother,  for  what  reason  it  matters  not,  set  tire 
to  his  father’s  house,  and  burned  it  to  the  ground,  with  all 
the  family  that  were  in  it. 

As  for  Bessus,  it  seems  he  killed  his  own  father,  and 
the  murder  lay  concealed  a  long  time.  At  length  being 
invited  to  supper  among  strangers,  after  he  had  so  loosened 
a  swallow’s  nest  with  his  spear  that  it  fell  down,  he  killed 
all  the  young  ones.  Upon  which,  being  asked  by  the 
guests  that  were  present,  what  injury  the  swallows  had 
done  him  that  he  should  commit  such  an  irregular  act ; 
Did  you  not  hear,  said  he,  these  cursed  swallows,  how  they 
clamored  and  made  a  noise,  false  witnesses  as  they  were, 
that  I  had  long  ago  killed  my  father  ?  This  answer  struck 
the  rest  of  the  guests  with  so  much  wonder,  that,  after  a 
due  pondering  upon  his  words,  they  made  known  the 
wholp  story  to  the  king.  Upon  which,  the  matter  being 
dived  into,  Bessus  was  brought  to  condign  punishment. 

9.  These  things  I  have  alleged,  as  it  was  but  reason, 
upon  a  supposition  that  there  is  a  forbearance  of  inflict¬ 
ing  punishment  upon  the  wicked.  As  for  what  remains, 
it  behooves  us  to  listen  to  Hesiod,  where  he  asserts,  —  not 
like  Plato,  that  punishment  is  a  suffering  which  accom¬ 
panies  injustice,  —  but  that  it  is  of  the  same  age  with  it, 


274 


CONCERNING  SUCH  WHOM 


and  arises  from  the  same  place  and  root.  For,  says  he, 

Bad  counsel,  so  the  Gods  ordain, 

Is  most  of  all  the  adviser’s  bane. 

) 

And  in  another  place, 

He  that  his  neighbor’s  harm  contrives,  his  art 
Contrives  the  mischief  ’gainst  his  own  false  heart.* 

It  is  reported  that  tne  cantharis  fly,  by  a  certain  kind 
of  contrariety,  carries  within  itself  the  cure  of  the  wound 
which  it  inflicts.  On  the  other  side  wickedness,  at  the 
same  time  it  is  committed,  engendering  its  own  vexation 
and  torment,  not  at  last,  but  at  the  very  instant  of  the '  in¬ 
jury  offered,  suffers  the  reward  of  the  injustice  it  has  done. 
And  as  every  malefactor  who  suffers  in  his  body  bears  *his 
own  cross  to  the  place  of  his  execution,  so  are  all  the 
various  torments  of  various  wicked  actions  prepared  by 
wickedness  herself.  Such  a  diligent  architectress  of  a 
miserable  and  wretched  life  is  wickedness,  wherein  shame 
is  still  accompanied  with  a  thousand  terrors  and  commo¬ 
tions  of  the  mind,  incessant  repentance,  and  never-ceasing 
tumults  of  the  spirits.  However,  there  are  some  people 
that  differ  little  or  nothing  from  children,  who,  many  times 
beholding  malefactors  upon  the  stage,  in  their  gilded  vest¬ 
ments  and  short  purple  cloaks,”  dancing  with  crowns  upon 
their  heads,  admire  and  look  upon  them  as  the  most  happy 
persons  in  the  world,  till  they  see  them  gored  and  lashed, 
and  flames  of  Are  curling  from  underneath  th'eir  sumptuous 
and  gaudy  garments.  Thus  there  are  many  wicked  men, 
surrounded  with  numerous  families,  splendid  in  the  pomp 
of  magistracy,  and  illustrious  for  the  greatness  of  their 
power,  whose  punishments  never  display  themselves  till 
those  glorious  persons  come  to  be  the  public  spectacles  of 
the  people,  either  slain  and  lying  weltering  in  their  blood, 
or  else  standing  on  the  top  of  the  rock,  ready  to  be  tum¬ 
bled  headlong  down  the  precipice ;  which  indeed  cannot 

*  Hesiod,  Works  and  Days,  265. 


GOD  IS  SLOW  TO  PUNISH. 


275 


so  well  be  said  to  be  a  punishment,  as  the  consummation 
and  perfection  of  punishment. 

Moreover,  as  Herodicus  the  Selymbrian,  falling  into  a 
consumption,  the  most  incurable  of  all  diseases,  was  the 
first  who  intermixed  the  gymnastic  art  with  the  science  of 
physic  (as  Plato  relates),  and  in  so  doing  did  spin  out 
in  length  a  tedious  time  of  dying,  as  well  for  himself  as 
for  others  laboring  under  the  same  distemper ;  in  like 
manner  some  wicked  men  who  flatter  themselves  to  have 
escaped  the  present  punishment,  not  after  a  longer  time,  but 
for  a  longer  time,  endure  a  more  lasting,  not  a  slower 
punishment ;  not  punished  with  old  age,  but  growing  old 
under  the  tribulation  of  tormenting  affliction.  When  I 
speak  of  a  long  time  I  speak  in  reference  to  ourselves. 
For  as  to  the  Gods,  every  distance  and  distinction  of  hu¬ 
man  life  is  nothing  ;  and  to  say  “  now,  and  not  thirty  years 
ago  ”  is  the  same  thing  as  to  say  that  such  a  malefactor 
should  be  tormented  or  hanged  in  the  afternoon  and  not  in 
the  morning  ;  —  more  especially  since  a  man  is  but  shut  up 
in  this  life,  like  a  close  prisoner  in  'a  gaol,  from  whence  it 
is  impossible  to  make  an  escape,  while  yet  we  feast  and 
banquet,  are  full  of  business,  receive  rewards  and  honors 
and  sport.  Though  certainly  these  are  but  like  the  sports 
of  those  that  play  at  dice  or  draughts  in  the  gaol,  while  the 
rope  all  the  while  hangs  over  their  heads. 

10.  vSo  that  what  should  hinder  me  from  asserting,  that 
they  who  are  condemned  to  die  and  shut  up  in  prison  are 
not  truly  punished  till  the  executioner  has  chopped  off 
their  heads,  or  that  he  who  has  drunk  hemlock,  and  then 
walks  about  and  stays  till  a  heaviness  seizes  his  limbs,  has 
suffered  no  punishment  before  the  extinction  of  his  natural 
heat  and  the  coagulation  of  his  blood  deprive  him  of  his 
senses,  —  that  is  to  say,  if  we  deem  the  last  moment  of  the 
punishment  only  to  be  the  punishment,  and  omit  the  com¬ 
motions,  terrors,  apprehensions,  and  embitter ments  of  re- 


276 


CONCERNING  SUCH  WHOM 


pentance,  with  which  every  malefactor  and  all  wicked  men 
are  teased  upon  the  committing  of  any  heinous  crime? 
But  this  is  to  deny  the  fish  to  he  taken  that  has  swal¬ 
lowed  the  hook,  before  we  see  it  boiled  and  cut  into  pieces 
by  the  cook  ;  for  every  otfender  is  within  the  gripes  of  the 
law,  so  soon  as  he  has  committed  the  crime  and  has  swal¬ 
lowed  the  sweet  bait  of  injustice,  while  his  conscience 
within,  tearing  and  gnawing  upon  his  vitals,  allows  him  no 
rest : 

Like  the  swift  tunny,  frighted  from  his  prey. 

Rolling  and  plunging  in  the  angered  sea. 

For  the  daring  rashness  and  precipitate  boldness  of  iniquity 
continue  violent  and  active  till  the  fact  be  perpetrated ; 
but  then  the  passion,  like  a  surceasing  tempest,  growing 
slack  and  weak,  surrenders  itself  to  superstitious  fears  and 
terrors.  So  that  Stesichorus  may  seem  to  have  composed 
the'^dream  of  Clytemnestra,  to  set  forth  the  event  and  truth 
of  things  : 

Then  seemed  a  dragon  to  draw  near. 

With  mattery  blood  all  on  his  head  besmeared ; 

Therefrom  the  king  Plisthenides  appeared. 

For  visions,  in  dreams,  noon-day  apparitions,  oracles,  de¬ 
scents  into  hell,  and  whatever  objects  else  which  may  be 
thought  to  be  transmitted  from  heaven,  raise  continual 
tempests  and  horrors  in  the  very  souls  of  the  guilty.  Thus 
it  is  reported  that  Apollodorus  in  a  dream  beheld  himself 
flayed  by  the  Scythians  and  then  boiled,  and  that  his  heart, 
speaking  to  him  out  of  the  kettle,  uttered  these  words,  I 
am  the  cause  thou  sufferest  all  this.  And  another  time, 
that  he  saw  his  daughters  run  about  him,  their  bodies 
burning  and  all  in  a  flame.  Hipparchus  also,  the  son  of 
Pisistratus,  had  a  dream,  that  the  Goddess  Venus  out  of  a 
certain  phial  flung  blood  in  his  face.  The  favorites  of 
Ptolemy,  surnamed  the  Thunderer,  dreamed  that  they  saw 
their  master  cited  to  the  judgment-seat  by  Seleucus,  where 


GOD  IS  SLOW  TO  PUNISH. 


277 


wolves  and  vultures  were  his  judges,  and  then  distributing 
great  quantities  of  flesh  among  his  enemies.  Pausanias, 
in  the  heat  of  his  lust,  sent  for  Cleonice,  a  free-born  virgin 
of  Byzantium,  with  an  intention  to  have  enjoyed  her  all 
night ;  but  when  she  came,  out  of  a  strange  sort  of  jeal¬ 
ousy  and  perturbation  for  which  he  could  give  no  reason, 
he  stabbed  her.  This  murder  was  attended  with  frightful 
visions ;  insomuch  that  his  repose  in  the  night  was  not 
only  interrupted  with  the  appearance  of  her  shape,  but 
still  he  thought  he  heard  her  uttering  these  lines  : 

To  judgment-seat  approach  thou  near,  I  say; 

Wrong  dealing  is  to  men  most  hurtful  aye. 

After  this  the  apparition  still  haunting  him,  he  sailed  to 
the  oracle  of  the  dead  in  Heraclea,  and  by  propitiations, 
charms,  and  dirges,  called  up  the  ghost  of  the  damsel ; 
which,  appearing  before  him,  told  him  in  few  words,  that 
he  should  be,  free  from  all  his  affrights  and  molestations 
upon  his  return  to  Lacedaemon ;  where  he  was  no  sooner 
arrived,  but  he  died. 

11.  Therefore,  if  nothing  befalls  the  soul  after  the  ex¬ 
piration  of  this  life,  but  death  is  the  end  of  all  reward  and 
punishment,  I  might  infer  from  thence  rather  that  the  Dei¬ 
ty  is  remiss  and  indulgent  in  swiftly  punishing  the  wicked 
and  depriving  them  of  life.  For  if  a  man  shall  assert 
that  in  the  space  of  this  life  the  wicked  are  no  otherwise 
affected  than  by  the  convincement  that  crime  is  a  fruitless 
and  barren  thing,  that  produces  nothing  of  good,  nothing 
worthy  of  esteem,  from  the  many  great  and  terrible  com¬ 
bats  and  agonies  of  the  mind,  the  consideration  of  these 
things  altogether  subverts  the  soul.  As  it  is  related  that 
Lysimachus,  being  under  the  violent  constraint  of  a  parch¬ 
ing  thirst,  surrendered  up  his  person  and  his  dominions  to 
the  Getae  for  a  little  drink  ;  but  after  he  had  quenched  his 
draught  and  found  himself  a  captive,  Shame  of  this  wick¬ 
edness  of  mine,  cried  he,  that  for  so  small  a  pleasure  have 


278 


CONCERNING  SUCH  WHOM 


lost  SO  great  a  kingdom.  But  it  is  a  difficult  thing  for  a 
man  to  resist  the  natural  necessity  of  mortal  passions. 
Yet  when  a  man,  either  out  of  avarice,  or  ambition  of 
civil  honor  and  power,  or  to  gratify  his  venereal  desires, 
commits  any  enormous  and  heinous  crime,  after  which,  the 
thirst  and  rage  of  his  passion  being  allayed,  he  comes  to 
set  before  his  eyes  the  ignominious  and  horrible  passions 
tending  to  injustice  still  remaining,  but  sees  nothing  useful, 
nothing  necessary,  nothing  conducible  to  make  his  life  kap- 
py  ;  may  it  not  be  probably  conjectured  that  such  a  person 
is  frequently  solicited  by  these  reflections  to  consider  how 
rashly,  either  prompted  by  vain-glory,  or  for  the  sake  of  a 
lawless  and  barren  pleasure,  he  has  overthrown  the  noblest 
and  greatest  maxims  of  justice  among  men,  and  overflowed 
his  life  with  shame  and  trouble  ?  As  Simonides  jesting  was 
wont  to  say,  that  the  chest  which  he  kept  for  money  he 
found  always  full,  but  that  which  he  kept  for  gratitude  he 
found  always  empty ;  thus  wicked  men,  contemplating 
their  owm  wickedness,  find  it  always  void  altogether  and 
destitute  of  hope  (since  pleasure  gives  but  a  short  and  empty 
delight),  but  ever  weighed  down  with  fears  and  sorrows, 
ungrateful  remembrances,  suspicions  of  futurity,  and  dis¬ 
trusts  of  present  accidents.  Thus  we  hear  fno  complain¬ 
ing  upon  the  theatre,  after  her  repentance  of  what  she 
had  done : 

Dear  women,  tell  me,  with  what  face 

Shall  I  return  to  dwell  with  Athamas, 

As  if  it  ne’er  had  been  my  luckless  fate 

The  worst  of  foul  misdeeds  to  perpetrate  7  * 

Thus  is  it  not  reason  to  believe,  that  the  soul  of  every  wicked 
man  revolves  and  reasons  within  itself,  how  by  burying  in 
oblivion  former  transgressions,  and  casting  from  itself  the 
consciousness  and  the  guilt  of  hitherto  committed  crimes, 
to  fit  frail  mortality  under  her  conduct  for  a  new  course  of 
life  ?  For  there  is  nothing  for  a  man  to  confide  in,  noth- 

*  From  the  Ino  of  Euripides,  Frag.  403. 


GOD  IS  SLOW  TO  PUNISH. 


279 


ing  but  wbat  vanishes  like  smoke,  nothing  durable  or  con¬ 
stant  in  whatever  impiety  proposes  to  itself,  —  unless,  by 
Jove,  we  will  allow  the  unjust  and  vicious  to  be  sage  phi¬ 
losophers,  —  but  wherever  eager  avarice  and  voluptuous¬ 
ness,  inexorable  hatred,  enmity,  and  improbity  associate 
together,  there  you  shall  also  be  sure  to  find  superstition 
nestling  and  herding  with  effeminacy  and  terror  of  death, 
a  swift  change  of  the  most  violent  passions,  and  an  arro¬ 
gant  ambition  after  undeserved  honor.  Such  men  as 
these  stand  in  continual  dread  of  their  contemners  and 
backbiters,  they  fear  their  applauders,  believing  themselves 
injured  by  their  flatteries ;  and  more  especially,  they  are 
at  enmity  with  bad  men,  because  they  are  so  free  to  extol 
those  that  seem  good.  However,  that  which  hardens  men 
to  mischief  soon  cankers,  grows  brittle,  and  shivers  in 
pieces  like  bad  iron.  So  that  in  process  of  time,  coming 
to  understand  themselves  better  and  to  be  more  sensible  of 
their  miscarriages,  they  disdain,  abhor,  and  utterly  disclaim 
their  former  course  of  life.  And  when  we  see  how  a 
wicked  man  who  restores  a  trust  or  becomes  security  for 
his  friend,  or  ambitious  of  honor  contributes  more  largely 
to  the  benefits  of  his  country,  is  immediately  in  a  condition 
of  repentance  and  sorry  for  what  he  has  just  done,  by 
reason  of  the  natural  inclination  of  his  mind  to  ramble 
and  change ;  and  how  some  men,  being  clapped  and 
hummed  upon  the  theatre,  presently  fall  a  weeping,  their 
desire  of  glory  relapsing  into  covetousness ;  we  surely 
cannot  believe  that  those  which  sacrificed  the  lives  of  men 
to  the  success  of  their  tyrannies  and  conspiracies,  as  Apol- 
lodorus,  or  plundered  their  friends  of  their  treasure  and 
deprived  them  of  their  estates,  as  Glaucus  the  son  of 
Epicydes,  did  not  repent  and  abhor  themselves,  or  that  they 
were  not  sorry  for  the  perpetration  of  'such,  foul  enormi¬ 
ties.  For  my  part,  if  it  may  be  lawful  for  me  to  deliver 
my  opinion,  I  believe  there  is  no  occasion  either  for  the 


CONCERNING  SUCH  WHOM 


2eo 

Gods  or  raen  to  inflict  their  punishment  upon  the  most 
wicked  and  saQL'ilegious  offenders  ;  seeing  that  the  course 
of  their  own  lives  is  sufficient  to  chastise  their  crimes, 
while  they  remain  under  the  consternations  and  torments 
attending  their  impiety. 

12.  And  now  consider  whether  my  discourse  have  not 
enlarged  itself  too  fixr.  To  which  Timon:  Perhaps  (said 
he)  it  may  seem  to  have  been  too  long,  if  we  consider 
what  remains  behind,  and  the  length  of  time  required  for 
the  discussion  of  our  other  doubts.  For  now  I  am  going 
about  to  put  forward  the  last  question,  like  a  new  cham¬ 
pion,  since  we  have  contended  already  long  enough  upon 
the  former.  Now,  as  to  what  we  have  further  to  say,  we 
find  that  Euripides  delivers  his  mind  freely,  and  censures 
the  Gods  for  imputing  the  transgressions  of  forefathers 
unto  their  offspring.  And  I  am  apt  to  believe  that  even 
they  who  are  most  silent  among  us  do  the  like.  For  if 
the  offenders  themselves  have  already  received  their  re¬ 
ward,  then  there  is  no  reason  why  the  innocent  should  be 
punished,  since  it  is  not  equal  to  punish  even  criminals 
twice  for  the  same  fact.  But  if  remiss  and  careless,  the 
Gods,  omitting  opportunely  to  inflict  their  penalties  upon 
the  wicked,  send  down  their  tardy  rigor  on  the  blameless, 
they  do  not  well  to  repair  their  defective  slowness  by  in¬ 
justice.  As  it  is  reported  of  Aesop,  that  he  came  upon  a 
time  to  Delphi,  having  brought  along  with  him  a  great 
quantity  of  gold  which  Croesus  had  bestowed  upon  him, 
on  purpose  to  offer  a .  most  magnificent  oblation  to  the 
Gods,  and  with  a  design  moreover  to  distribute  among  the 
priests  and  the  people  of  Delphi  four  minas  apiece.  But 
there  happening  some  disgust  and  difference  between  him 
and  the  Delphians,  he  performed  his  solemnity,  but  sent 
back  his  money  to  Sardis,  not  deeming  those  ungrateful 
people  worthy  of  his  bounty.  Upon  w’hich  the  Delphians, 
laying  their  heads  together,  accused  him  of  sacrilege,  and 


GOD  IS  SLOW  TO  PUNISH. 


281 


then  threw  him  down  headlong  from  a  steep  and  prodig¬ 
ious  precipice,  which  is  there,  called  Hy^mpia.  Upon 
which  it  is  reported  that  the  Deity,  being  highly  incensed 
against  them  for  so  horrid  a  murder,  brought  a  famine 
upon  the  land,  and  infested  the  people  with  noisome  dis¬ 
eases  of  all  sorts  ;  insomuch  that  they  were  constrained  to 
make  it  their  business  to  travel  to  all  the  general  assem¬ 
blies  and  places  of  public  concourse  in  Greece,  making 
public  proclamation  wherever  they  came,  that,  whoever 
they  were  that  would  demand  justice  for  the  death  of 
Aesop,  they  were  prepared  to  give  him  satisfaction  and 
to  undergo  whatever  penalty  he  should  require.  Three 
generations  afterwards  came  one  Idmon,  a  Samian,  no  way 
of  kin  or  otherwise  related  to  Aesop,  but  only  descended 
from  those  who  had  purchased  Aesop  in  Samos  ;  to  whom 
the  Delphians  paid  those  forfeitures  which  he  demanded, 
and  were  delivered  from  all  their  pressing  calamities.  And 
from  hence  (by  report)  it  was,  that  the  punishment  of  sac¬ 
rilegious  persons  was  transferred  from  the  rock  Hyampia  to 
that  other  cliff  which  bears  the  name  of  Nauplia. 

Neither  is  xAlexander  applauded  by  those  who  have  the 
greatest  esteem  for  his  memory  (of  which  number  are  we 
ourselves);  who  utterly  laid  waste  the  city  of  Branchidae, 
putting  men,  women,  and  children  to  the  sword,  for  that 
their  ancestors  had  long  before  delivered  up  the  temple  of 
Miletus.  In  like  manner  Agathocles,  tyrant  of  Syracuse, 
when  the  Corcyraeans  requested  to  know  the  reason  of 
him,  why  he  depopulated  their  island,  deriding  and  scoffing 
at  their  demand,  replied :  For  no  other  reason,  by  Jove, 
but  because  your  forefathers  entertained  Ulysses.  And 
wffien  the  islanders  of  Ithaca  expostulated  with  him,  ask¬ 
ing  why  his  soldiers  carried  away  their  sheep ;  because, 
said  he,  when  your  king  came  to  our  island,  he  put  out 
the  eyes  of  the  shepherd  himself.  And  therefore  do  you 
not  think  Apollo  more  extravagant  than  all  these,  for  pun- 


282 


CONCERNING  SUCH  WHOM 


isliing  so  severely  the  Pheneatae  by  stopping  up  that  pro¬ 
found  and  spaqious  receptacle  of  all  those  floods  that  now 
cover  their  country,  upon  a  bare  report  that  Hercules  a 
thousand  years  ago  took  away  the  prophetic  tripod  and 
carried  it  to  Pheneus?  —  or  when  he  foretold  to  the  Sybar¬ 
ites,  that  all  their  calamities  should  cease,  upon  condition 
they  appeased  the  wrath  of  Leucadian  Juno  by  enduring 
three  ruinous  calamities  upon  their  country?  Nor  is  it  so 
long  since,  that  the  Locrians  surceased  to  Send  their  virgins 
to  Troy ; 

Who  like  the  meanest  slaves,  exposed  to  scorn, 

Barefoot,  with  limbs  unclad,  at  earliest  morn 
Minerva’s  temple  sweep  ;  yet  all  tlie  while. 

No  privilege  has  age  from  weary  toil. 

Nor,  when  with  years  decrepit,  can  they  claim 
The  thinnest  veil  to  hide  their  aged  shame  ; 

and  all  this  to  punish  the  lasciviousness  of  Ajax. 

Now  where  is  the  reason  or  justice  of  all  this?  Nor  is 
the  custom  of  the  Thracians  to  be  approved,  who  to  this 
day  abuse  their  wives  in  revenge  of  their  cruelty  to  Or¬ 
pheus.  And  with  as  little  reason  are  the  Barbarians  about 
the  river  Po  to  be  extolled,  who  once  a  year  put  themselves 
into  mourning  for  the  misfortune  of  Phaethon.  And  still 
more  ridiculous  than  all  this  it  would  certainly  be,  when 
all  those  people  that  lived  at  the  time  took  no  notice  of 
Phaethon’s.  mischance,  that  they,  who  happened  to  be  born 
flve  or  ten  generations  after,  should  be  so  idle  as  to  take 
up  the  custom  of  going  into  black  and  bewailing  his  down¬ 
fall.  However,  in  all  these  things  there  is  nothing  to  be 
observed  but  mere  folly  ;  nothing  pernicious,  nor  any  thing 
dangerous.  But  as  for  the  anger  of  the  Gods,  what  reason 
can  be  given  why  their  wrath  should  stop  and  conceal 
itself  upon  a  sudden,  like  some  certain  rivers,  and  when 
all  things  seem  to  be  forgot,  should  break  forth  upon 
others  with  so  much  fury,  as  not  to  be  atoned  but  with 
some  remarkable  calamities  ? 


GOD  IS  SLOW  TO  PUNISH. 


283 


13.  Upon  that,  so  soon  as  he  had  done  speaking,  not  a 
little  afraid  lest,  if  he  should  begin  again,  he  would  run 
himself  into  many  more  and  greater  absurdities,  I  asked : 
Do  you  believe,  sir,  all  that  you  have  said  to  be  true] 
Then  he :  Though  all  that  I  have  alleged  may  not  be  true, 
yet  if  only  some  part  may  be  allowed  for  truth,  do  not  you 
think  there  is  the  same  difficulty  still  remaining  in  the 
question  ?  It  may  be  so,  said  I.  And  thus  it  is  with  those 
who  labor  under  a  vehement  burning  fever ;  for,  whether 
covered  with  one  blanket  or  many,  the  heat  is  still  the 
same  or  very  little  different ;  yet  for  refreshment’s  sake  it 
may  be  convenient  sometimes  to  lighten  the  weight  of  the 
clothes ;  and  if  the  patient  refuse  your  courtesy,  to  let  him 
alone.  Yet  I  must  tell  you,  the  greatest  part  of  these 
examples  look  like  fables  and  fiction.  Call  to  mind  there¬ 
fore  the  feast  called  Theoxenia  lately  celebrated,  and  that 
most  noble  portion  which  the  public  criers  proclaim  to  be 
received  as  their  due  by  the  offspring  of  Pindar ;  and  re¬ 
collect  with  yourself,  how  majestic  and  grateful  a  mark  of 
grandeur  you  look  upon  that  to  be.'  Truly,  said  he,  I 
judge  there  is  no  man  living  who  would  not  be  sensible  of 
the  curiosity  and  elegancy  of  such  an  honor,  displaying 
antiquity  void  of  tincture  and  falsh  glitter,  after  the  Greek 
manner,  unless  he  w'ere  such  a  brute  that  I  may  use  the 
words  of  Pindar  himself : 

Whose  coal-black  heart,  from  natural  dross  unpurged. 

Had  only  by  cold  flames  at  first  been  forged. 

Therefore  I  forbear,  said  I,  to  mention  that  proclamation 
not  much  unlike  to  this,  usually  made  in  Sparta, — “  After 
the  Lesbian  sinj^er,”  —  in  honor  and  memorv  of  the  an- 
cient  Terpander.  But  you,  on  the  other  side,  deem  your¬ 
self  worthy  to  be  preferred  above  all  the  rest  of  the 
Boeotians,  as  being  of  the  noble  race  of  the  Opheltiadae ; 
and  among  the  Phocians  you  claim  undoubted  pre-eminence, 
for  the  sake  of  your  ancestor  Daiphantus.  And,  for  my 


284 


CONCERNING  SUCH  WHOM 


part,  I  must  acknowledge  that  you  were  one  of  the  first 
who  assisted  me,  as  my  second,  against  the  Lycormaeans 
and  Satilaeans,  claiming  the  privilege  of  wearing  crowns 
and  the  honor  due  by  the  laws  of  Greece  to  the  descendants 
from  Hercules ;  at  what  time  I  affirmed,  that  those  honors 
and  guerdons  ought  more  especially  to  be  preserved  in¬ 
violable  to  the  immediate  progeny  of  Hercules,  in  regard 
that,  though  he  were  so  great  a  benefactor  to  the  Greeks, 
yet  in  his  lifetime  he  was  not  thought  worthy  of  any 
reward  or  return  of  gratitude.  You  recall  to  my  remem¬ 
brance,  said  he,  a  most  noble  contest,  and  worthy  the 
debate  of  philosophy  itself.  Dismiss  therefore,  said  I, 
that  vehement  humor  of  yours  that  excites  you  to  accuse 
the  Gods,  nor  take  it  ill,  if  many  times  celestial  punish¬ 
ment  discharges  itself  upon  the  offspring  of  the  wicked 
and  vicious  ;  or  else  be  not  too  much  overjoyed  or  too  for¬ 
ward  to  applaud  those  honors  which  are  due  to  nobility  of 
birth.  For  it  becomes  us,  if  we  believe  that  the  reward 
of  virtue  ought  to  be  extended  to  posterity,  by  the  same 
reason  to  take  it  for  granted  that  punishment  for  impieties 
committed  ought  not  to  be  stayed  and  cease  any  sooner, 
but  that  it  should  run  forward  at  equal  pace  with  the 
reward,  which  will  in  turn  requite  every  man  with  what  is 
his  due.  And  therefore  they  that  with  pleasure  behold 
the  race  of  Cimon  highly  honored  in  Athens,  but  on  the 
other  side,  fret  and  fume  at  the  exilement  of  the  posterity 
of  Lachares  or  Ariston,  are  too  remiss  and  oscitant,  or 
rather  too  morose  and  over  quarrelsome  with  the  Deity 
itself,  one  while  accusing  the  Divinity  if  the  posterity  of 
an  unjust  and  wicked  person  seem  to  prosper  in  the  world, 
another  time  no  less  moody  and  finding  fault  if  it  fall  cut 
that  the  race  of  the  wicked  come  to  be  utterly  destroyed 
and  extirpated  from  the  earth.  And  thus,  whether  the 
children  of  the  wicked  or  the  children  of  the  just  fall 
under  affliction,  the  case  is  all  one  to  them ;  the  Gods 
must  suffer  alike  in  their  bad  opinions. 


GOD  IS  SLOW  TO  PUNISH. 


285 


14.  These,  said  I,  are  the  preliminaries,  which  I  would 
have  you  make  use  of  against  those  choleric  accusers  and 
testy  snarlers  of  whom  I  have  given  you  warning.  But 
now  to  take  in  hand  once  more,  as  it  were,  the  first  end  of 
the  bottom  of  thread,  in  this  same  dark  discourse  of  the 
Gods,  wherein  there  are  so  many  windings  and  turnings 
and  gloomy  labyrinths,  let  us  by  degrees  and  with  caution 
direct  our  steps  to  what  is  most  likely  and  probable.  For, 
even  in  those  things  which'  fall  under  our  daily  practice 
and  management,  w^e  are  many  times  at  a  loss  to  determine 
the  undoubted  and  unquestioned  truth.  For  example, 
what  certain  reason  can  be  given  for  that  custom  amongst 
us,  of  ordering  the  children  of  parents  that  die  of  a  con¬ 
sumption  or  a  dropsy  to  sit  wdth  both  their  feet  soaking  in 
the  water  till  the  dead  body  be  burnt?  For  people  believe, 
that  thereby  the  disease  is  prevented  from  becoming  heredi¬ 
tary,  and  also  that  it  is  a  charm  to  secure  those  children 
from  it  as  long  as  they  live.  Again,  w^hat  should  be  the 
reason,  that  if  a  goat  take  a  piece  of  sea-holly  in  her 
mouth,  the  whole  herd  will  stand  still  till  the  goat-herd 
come  and  take  it  out?  Other  hidden  properties  there  are, 
which,  by  virtue  of  certain  touches  and  transitions,  pass 
from  some  bodies  into  others  with  incredible  swiftness  and 
often  to  incredible  distances.  But  we  are  more  apt  to 
wmnder  at  distances  of  time  than  those  of  space.  And  yet 
there  is  more  reason  to  wonder,  that  Athens  should  be 
infected  with  an  epidemic  contagion  taking  its  rise  in 
Ethiopia,  that  Pericles  should  die  and  Thucydides  be  smit¬ 
ten  with  the  infection,  than  that,  upon  the  impiety  of  the 
Delphians  and  Sybarites,  delayed  vengeance  should  at 
length  overtake  their  posterity.  For  these  hidden  powers 
and  properties  have  their  sacred  connections  and  corre¬ 
spondences  between  their  utmost  endings  and  their  first 
beginnings ;  of  which  although  the  causes  be  concealed 
from  us,  yet  silently  they  bring  to  pass  their  proper  effects. 


286 


CONCERNING  SUCH  WHOM 


15.  Xot  but  that  there  is  a  reason  ready  at  hand  for  the 
public  punishments  showered  down  from  heaven  upon 
particular  cities.  For  a  city  is  a  kind  of  entire  thing  and 
continued  body,  a  certain  sort  of  creature,  never  subject  to 
the  changes  and  alterations  of  age,  nor  varying  through 
process  of  time  from  one  thing  to  another,  but  always 
sympathizing  and  in  unity  with  itself,  and  receiving  the 
punishment  or  reward  of  whatever  it  does  or  has  ever 
acted  in  common,  so  long  as  the  community,  which  makes 
it  a  body  and  binds  it  together  with  the  mutual  bands  of 
human  benefit,  preserves  its  unity.  For  he  that  goes  about 
of  one  city  to  make  many,  and  perhaps  an  infinite  number, 
by  distinguishing  the  intervals  of  time,  seems  to  be  like  a 
person  who  would  make  several  of  one  single  man,  because 
he  is  now  grown  elderly  who  before  was  a  young  man,  and 
before  that  a  mere  stripling.  Or  rather,  it  resembles  the 
method  of  disputing  amongst  the  Epicharmians,  the  first 
authors  of  that  manner  of  arguing  called  the  increaser. 
For  example:  he  that  formerly  ran  in  debt,  although  he 
never  paid  it,  owes  nothing  now,  as  being  become  another 
man  ;  and  he  that  was  invited  yesterday  to  supper  comes 
the  next  night  an  unbidden  guest,  for  that  he  is  quite 
another  person.  And  indeed  the  distinctions  of  ages  cause 
greater  alterations  in  every  one  of  us  than  commonly  they 
do  in  cities.  For  he  that  has  seen  Athens  may  know  it 
again  thirty  years  after ;  the  present  manners,  motions, 
pastimes,  serious  studies,  their  familiarities  and  marks  of 
their  displeasure,  little  or  nothing  differing  from  what  for¬ 
merly  they  were.  But  after  a  long  absence  there  is  many 
a  man  who,  meeting  his  own  familiar  friend,  hardly  knows 
him  again,  by  reason  of  the  great  alteration  of  his  coun¬ 
tenance  and  the  change  of  his  manners,  which  are  so  easily 
subject  to  the  alterations  of  language,  labor,  and  employ¬ 
ment,  all  manner  of  accidents,  and  mutation  of  law^s,  that 
even  they  who  are  most  usually  conversant  Avith  him  ad- 


GOD  IS  SLOW  TO  PUNISH. 


'287 


mire  to  see  the  strangeness  and  novelty  of  the  change  ;  and 
yet  the  man  is  reputed  still  to  be  the  same  from  his  birth 
to  his  decease.  In  the  same  manner  does  a  city  still  re¬ 
main  the  same  ;  and  for  that  reason  we  think  it  but  justice, 
that  a  city  should  as  well  be  obnoxious  to  the  blame  and 
reproach  of  its  ancient  inhabitants,  as  participate  the  glory 
of  their  former  puissance  and  renown  ;  else  we  shall  throw 
every  thing  before  we  know  it  into  the  river  of  Heraclitus, 
into  which  (he  says)  no  one  can  step  twice,*  since  Nature 
by  her  changes  is  ever  altering  and  transforming  all  things. 

16.  Now  then,  if  a  city  be  one  entire  and  continued 
body,  the  same  opinion  is  to  be  conceived  of  a  race  of 
men,  depending  upon  one  and  the  same  beginning,  and 
carrying  along  with  it  a  certain  power  and  communion  of 
qualities  ;  in  regard  that  what  is  begotten  cannot  be  thought 
to  be  severed  from  that  which  begets  it,  like  a  piece,  of 
workmanship  from  the  artificer ;  the  one  being  begotten 
of  the  person,  the  other  framed  by  him.  So  that  what  is 
engendered  is  a  part  of  the  original  from  whence  it  sprung, 
whether  meriting  honor  or  deserving  punishment.  So  that, 
were  it  not  that  I  might  be  thought  to  be  too  sportive  in  a 
serious  discourse,  I  would  affirm,  that  the  Athenians  were 
more  unjust  to  the  statue  of  Cassander  when  they  caused 
it  to  be  melted  down  and  defaced,  and  that  the  Syracusans 
were  more  rigorous  to  the  dead  carcass  of  Dionysius  when 
they  cast  it  forth  of  their  own  confines,  than  if  they  had 
punished  their  posterity  ;  for  that  the  statue  did  no  way 
partake  of  the  substance  of  Cassander,  and  the  soul  of 
Dionysius  was  absolutely  departed  from  the  body  deceased. 
Whereas  Nisaeus,  Apollocrates,  Antipater,  Philip,  and 
•  several  others  descended  from  wicked  parents,  still  retained 
the  most  principal  part  of  those  who  begot  them,  not  lazily 

*  Referring  to  the  doctrine  of  Heraclitus,  that  all  Nature  is  moving  onward,  and 
nothing  is  the  same  two  successive  moments.  “  You  cannot  step  twice  into  the 
same  river/’  he  says.  See  I’lat.  Cratyl.  p.  402  A.  (G.) 


288 


CONCERNING  SUCH  WHOM 


and  sliiggislily  dormant,  but  that  very  part  by  which  they 
live,  are  nourished,  act  and  move,  and  become  rational  and#^ 
sensible  creatures.  Neither  is  there  any  thing  of  absurdity, 
if,  being  the  offspring  of  such  parents,  they  should  retain 
many  of  their  bad  qualities.  In  short,  therefore,  I  affirm 
that,  as  it  is  in  the  practice  of  physic,  that  whatever  is 
wholesome  and  profitable  is  likewise  just,  and  as  he  would 
be  accounted  ridiculous  that  should  aver  it  to  be  an  act  of 
injustice  to  cauterize  the  thumb  for  the  cure  of  the  sciatica, 
or  when  the  liver  is  imposthumated,  to  scarify  the  belly,  or 
when  the  hoofs  of  laboring  oxen  are  over  tender,  to  anoint 
the  tips  of  their  horns  ;  in  the  same  manner  is  he  to  be 
laughed  at  who  seeks  for  any  other  justice  in  the  punish¬ 
ment  of  vice  than  the  cure  and  reformation  of  the  offender, 
and  Avho  is  angry  when  medicine  is  applied  to  some  parts 
for  the  cure  of  others,  as  when  a  chirurgeon  opens  a  vein  . 
to  give  his  patient  ease  upon  an  inflammation  of  the  eyes. 
For  such  a  one  seems  to  look  no  farther  than  what^he 
reaches  by  his  senses,  forgetting  that  a  schoolmaster,  by 
chastising  one,  admonishes  all  the  rest  of  his  scholars,  and 
that  a  general,  condemning  only  one  in  ten,  reduces  all  the 
rest  to  obedience.  And  thus  there  is  not  only  a  cure  and 
amendment  of  one  part  of  the  body  by  another ;  but  many 
times  the  very  soul  itself  is  inclined  to  vice  or  reformation, 
by  the  lewdness  or  virtue  of  another,  and  indeed  much 
more  readily  than  one  body  is  affected  by  another.  For,  in 
the  case  of  the  body,  as  it  seems  natural,  the  same  affec¬ 
tions  and  the  same  changes  must  always  occur ;  while  the 
soul,  being  agitated  by  fancy  and  imagination,  becomes 
better  or  worse,  as  it  is  either  daring  and  confident  or 
timorous  and  mistrustful. 

17.  While  I  was  yet  speaking,  Olympicus  interrupting 
me  said :  You  seem  by  this  discourse  of  yours  to  infer  as 
if  the  soul  were  immortal,  which  is  a  supposition  of  great 
consequence.  It  is  very  true,  said  I,  nor  is  it  any  more 


GOD  IS  SLOW  TO  PUNISH. 


289 


than  what  yourselves  have  granted  already ;  in  regard  the 
whole  dispute  has  tended  from  the  beginning  to  this,  that 
the  supreme  Deity  overlooks  us,  and  deals  to  every  one  of 
us  according  to  our  deserts.  To  which  the  other :  Do  you 
then  believe  (said  he)  it  follows  of  necessity  that,  because 
the  Deity  observes  our  actions  and  distributes  to  every  one 
of  us  according  to  our  merits,  therefore  our  souls  should 
exist  and  be  altogether  incorruptible,  or  else  for  a  certain 
time  survive  the  body  after  death?  Not  so  fast,  good  sir, 
said  I.  But  can  we  think  that  God  so  little  considers  his 
own  actions,  or  is  such  a  waster  of  his  time  in  trifles,  that, 
if  we  had  nothing  of  divine  within  us,  nothing  that  in  the 
least  resembled  his  perfection,  nothing  permanent  and  sta¬ 
ble,  but  were  only  poor  creatures,  that  (according  to  Ho¬ 
mer’s  expression)  faded  and  dropped  like  withered  leaves, 
and  in  a  short  time  too,  yet  he  should  make  so  great  ac¬ 
count  of  us  —  like  women  that  bestow  their  pains  in  mak¬ 
ing  %little  gardens,  no  less  delightful  to  them  than  the 
gardens  of  Adonis,  in  earthen  pans  and  pots  —  as  to  create 
us  souls  to  blossom  and  flourish  only  for  a  day,  in  a  soft 
and  tender  body  of  flesh,  without  any  firm  and  solid  root 
of  life,  and  then  to  be  blasted  and  extinguished  in  a  mo¬ 
ment  upon  every  slight  occasion  ?  And  therefore,  if  you 
please,  not  concerning  ourselves  with  other  Deities,  let  us 
go  no  farther  than  the  God  Apollo,  whom  here  we  call 
our  own ;  see  whether  it  is  likely  that  he,  knowing  that 
the  souls  of  the  deceased  vanish  away  like  clouds  and 
smoke,  exhaling  from  our  bodies  like  a  vapor,  requires 
that  so  many  propitiations  and  such  great  honors  be  paid 
to  the  dead,  and  such  veneration  be  given  to  the  de¬ 
ceased,  merely  to  delude  and  cozen  his  believers.  And 
therefore,  for  my  part,  I  will  never  deny  the  immortality  of 
the  soul,  till  somebody  or  other,  as  they  say  Hercules  did 
of  old,  shall  be  so  daring  as  to  come  and  take  away  the 
prophetical  tripod,  and  so  quite  ruin  and  destroy  the  oracle. 


290 


CONCERNING  SUCH  WHOM 


For  as  long  as  many  oracles  are  uttered  even  in  these  our 
days  by  the  Delphic  soothsayer,  the  same  in  substance 
which  was  formerly  given  to  Corax  the  Naxian,  it  is  im¬ 
pious  to  declare  that  the  human  soul  can  die. 

Then  Patrocleas :  What  oracle  was  this  ?  Who  was 
that  same  Corax  1  For  both  the  answer  itself  and  the 
person  Avhom  you  mention  are  strangers  to  my  remem¬ 
brance.  Certainly,  said  I,  that  cannot  be  ;  only  it  was  my 
error  which  occasioned  your  ignorance,  in  making  use  of 
the  addition  to  the  name  instead  of  the  name  itself.  For 
it  was  Calondas,  who  slew  Archilochus  in  fight,  and  who 
was  surnamed  Corax.  He  was  thereupon  ejected  by  the 
Pythian  priestess,  as  one  who  had  slain  a  person  devoted 
to  the  Muses  ;  but  afterwards,  humbling  himself  in  prayers 
and  supplications,  intermixed  vvith  undeniable  excuses  of 
the  fact,  was  enjoined  by  the  oracle  to  repair  to  the  habita¬ 
tion  of  Tettix,  there  to  expiate  his  crime  by  appeasing  the 
ghost  of  Archilochus.  That  place  was  called  Taen^yus ; 
for  there  it  was,  as  the  report  goes,  that  Tettix  the  Cretan, 
coming  with  a  navy,  landed;  built  a  city  not  far  from  the 
Psychopompaeum  (or  place  where  ghosts  are  conjured  up), 
and  stored  it  with  inhabitants.  In  like  manner,  when  the 
Spartans  were  commanded  by  the  oracle  to  atone  the  ghost 
of  Pausanias,  they  sent  for  several  exercisers  and  conjur¬ 
ers  out  of  Italy,  who  by  virtue  of  their  sacrifices  chased 
the  apparition  out  of  the  temple. 

18.  Therefore,  said  I,  there  is  one  and  the  same  reason 
to  confirm  the  providence  of  God  and  the  immortality  of 
the  soul ;  neither  is  it  possible  to  admit  the  one,  if  you 
deny  the  other.  Now  then,  the  soul  surviving  after  the 
decease  of  the  body,  the  inference  is  the  stronger  that  it 
partakes  of  punishment  and  reward.  For  during  this  mor¬ 
tal  life  the  soul  is  in  continual  combat  like  a  wrestler ;  but 
after  all  those  conflicts  are  at  an  end,  she  then  receives  ac¬ 
cording  to  her  merits.  But  what  the  punishments  and  what 


GOD  IS  SLOW  TO  PUNISH. 


291 


the  rewards  of  past  transgressions  or  just  and  laudable  ac¬ 
tions  are  to  be  while  the  soul  is  thus  alone  by  itself,  is 
nothing  at  all  to  us  that  are  alive ;  for  either  they  are  al¬ 
together  concealed  from  our  knowledge,  or  else  we  give 
but  little  credit  to  them.  But  those  punishments  that 
reach  succeeding  posterity,  being  conspicuous  to  all  that 
are  living  at  the  same  time,  restrain  and  curb  the  inclina¬ 
tions  of  many  wicked  persons.  Now  I  have  a  story  that  I 
lately  heard,  which  I  might  relate  to  show  that  there  is  no 
punishment  more  grievous  or  that  touches  more  to  the  quick, 
than  for  a  man  to  behold  his  children  born  of  his  body  suf¬ 
fering  for  his  crimes ;  and  that,  if  the  soul  of  a  wicked 
and  lawless  criminal  were  to  look  back  to  earth  and  be¬ 
hold,  not  his  statues  overturned  and  his  dignities  reversed, 
but  his  own  children,  his  friends,  or  his  nearest  kindred 
ruined  and  overwhelmed  with  calamity,  such  a  person, 
were  he  to  return  to  life  again,  would  rather  choose  the  re¬ 
fusal  of  all  Jupiter’s  honors  than  abandon  himself  a  sec¬ 
ond  time  to  his  wonted  injustice  and  extravagant  desires. 
This  story,  I  say,  I  could  relate,  but  that  I  fear  lest  you  should 
censure  it  for  a  fable.  .  And  therefore  I  deem  it  much  the 
better  way  to  keep  close  to  what  is  probable  and  consen¬ 
taneous  to  reason.  By  no  means,  replied  Olympicus  ;  but 
proceed,  and  gratify  us  with  your  story  also,  since  it  was 
so  kindly  offered.  Thereupon,  when  the  rest  of  the  com¬ 
pany  likewise  made  me  the  same  request.  Permit  me,  said 
I,  in  the  first  place,  to  pursue  the  rational  part  of  my  dis¬ 
course,  and  then,  according  as  it  shall  seem  proper  and 
convenient,  if  it  be  a  fable,  you  shall  have  it  as  cheap  as  I 
heard  it. 

19.  Bion  was  of  opinion  that  God,  in  punishing  the 
children  of  the  wicked  for  the  sins  of  their  fathers,  seems 
more  irregular  than  a  physician  that  should  administer 
physic  to  a  son  or  a  grandchild,  to  cure  the  distemper  of 
a  father  or  a  grandfather.  But  this  comparison  does  not 


292 


CONCERNING  SUCH  WHOM 


run  cleverly ;  since  the  amplification  of  the  similitude 
agrees  only  in  some  things,  but  in  others  is  altogether  de¬ 
fective.  For  if  one  man  be  cured  of  a  disease  by  physic, 
the  same  medicine  will  not  cure  another ;  nor  was  it  ever 
known  that  any  person  troubled  with  sore  eyes  or  laboring 
under  a  fever  was  ever  restored  to  perfect  health  by  seeing 
another  in  the  same  condition  anointed  or  plastered.  But 
the  punishments  or  executions  of  malefactors  are  done 
publicly  in  the  face  of  the  world,  to  the  end  that,  justice 
appearing  to  be  the  effect  of  prudence  and  reason,  some 
may  be  restrained  by  the  correction  inflicted  upon  others. 
So  that  Bion  never  rightly  apprehended  where  the  com¬ 
parison  answered  to  our  question.  For  oftentimes  it  hap¬ 
pens,  that  a  man  comes  to  be  haunted  with  a  troublesome 
though  not  incurable  disease,  and  through  sloth  and  in 
temperance  increases  his  distemper,  and  weakens  his  body 
to  that  degree  that  he  occasions  his  own  death.  After 
this,  it  is  true,  the  son  does  not  fall  sick ;  only  he  has  re 
ceived  from  his  father’s  seed  such  a  habit  of  body  as  makes 
him  liable  to  the  same  disease ;  which  a  good  physician  or 
a  tender  friend  or  a  skilful  apothecary  or  a  careful  master 
observing  confines  him  to  a  strict  and  spare  diet,  restrains 
him  from  all  manner  of  superfluity,  keeps  him  from  all 
the  temptations  of  delicious  fare,  wine,  and  women,  and 
making  use  of  wholesome  and  proper  physic,  together  with 
convenient  exercise,  dissipates  and  extirpates  the  original 
cause  of  a  distemper  at  the  beginning,  before  it  grows  to 
a  head  and  gets  a  masterless  dominion  over  the  body. 
And  is  it  not  our  usual  practice  thus  to  admonish  those 
that  are  born  of  diseased  parents,  to  take  timely  care  of 
themselves,  and  not  to  neglect  the  malady,  but  to  expel 
the  original  nourishment  of  the  inbred  evil,  as  being  then 
easily  movable  and  apt  for  expulsion?  It  is  very  true,  cried 
they.  Therefore,  said  I,  we  cannot  be  said  to  do  an  ab¬ 
surd  thing,  but  what  is  absolutely  necessary,  —  nor  that 


GOD  IS  SLOW  TO  PUNISH. 


293 


whicli  is  ridiculous,  but  what  is  altogether  useful,  —  while 
we  prescribe  to  the  children  of  the  epileptic,  the  hypo¬ 
chondriacal,  and  those  that  are  subject  to  the  gout,  such 
exercises,  diet,  and  remedies  as  are  proper,  not  so  much 
because  they  are  at  that  time  troubled  with  the  distemper, 
as  to  prevent  the  malady.  For  a  man  begotten  by  an  un¬ 
sound  body  does  not  therefore  deserve  punishment,  but 
rather  the  preservation  of  proper  physic  and  good  regi¬ 
men  ;  which  if  any  one  call  the  punishment  of  fear  or 
effeminacy,  because  the  person  is  debarred  his  pleasures 
and  put  to  some  sort  of  pain  by  cupping  and  blistering, 
we  mind  not  what  he  says.  If  then  it  be  of  such  impor¬ 
tance  to  preserve,  by  physic  and  other  proper  means,  the 
vitiated  offspring  of  another  body,  foul  and  corrupted; 
ought  we  to  suffer  the  hereditary  resemblances  of  a  wick¬ 
ed  nature  to  sprout  up  and  bud  in  the  youthful  character, 
and  to  wait  till  they  are  diffused  into  all  the  affections  of 
the  mind,  and  bring  forth  and  ripen  the  malignant  fruit 
of  a  mischievous  disposition?  For  such  is  the  expression 
of  Pindar. 

20.  Or  can  you  believe  but  that  in  this  particular  God 
is  wiser  than  Hesiod,  admonishing  and  exhorting  us  in 
this  manner :  * 

Nor  mind  the  pleasures  of  the  genial  bed, 

Returning  from  th'  interment  of  the  dead  ; 

But  propagate  the  race,  when  heavenly  food 

And  feasting  with  the  Gods  have  warmed  the  blood  ; 

intimating  thereby,  that  a  man  was  never  to  attempt  the 
work  of  generation  but  in  the  height  of  a  jocund  and 
merry  humor,  and  when  he  found  himself  as  it  were  dis¬ 
solved  into  jollity ;  as  if  from  procreation  proceeded  the 
impressions  not  only  of  vice  or  virtue,  but  of  sorrow  and 
joy,  and  of  all  other  qualities  and  affections  whatever. 
However,  it  is  not  the  work  of  human  wisdom  (as  Hesiod 
supposes)  but  of  divine  providence,  to  foresee  the  sym- 

*  Hesiod,  Works  and  Days,  736. 


294 


CONCERNING  SUCH  WHOM 


pathies  and  differences  of  men’s  natures,  before  the  ma¬ 
lignant  infection  of  their  unruly  passions  come  to  exert 
itself,  by  hurrying  their  unadvised  youth  into  a  thousand 
dllanous  miscarriages.  For  though  the  cubs  of  bears  and 
vvhclps  of  wolves  and  apes  immediately  discover  their 
several  inbred  qualities  and  natural  conditions  without  any 
disguise  or  artificial  concealment,  man  is  nevertheless  a 
creature  more  refined,  who,  many  times  curbed  by  the 
shame  of  transgressing  common  customs,  universal  opinion, 
or  the  law,  conceals  the  evil  that  is  within  him,  and  imi¬ 
tates  only  what  is  laudable  and  honest.  -  So  that  he  may 
be  thought  to  have  altogether  cleansed  and  rinsed  away 
the  stains  and  imperfections  of  his  vicious  disposition,  and 
so  cunningly  for  a  long  time  to  have  kept  his  natural  cor¬ 
ruption  wrapped  up  under  the  covering  of  craft  and  dis¬ 
simulation,  that  we  are  scarce  sensible  of  the  fallacy  till  we 
feel  the  stripes  or  sting  of  his  injustice ;  believing  men  to 
be  only  then  unjust,  when  they  offer  wrong  to  ourselves ; 
lascivious,  when  we  see  them  abandoning  themselves  to 
their  lusts ;  and  cowards,  when  we  see  them  turning  their 
backs  upon  the  enemy ;  just  as  if  any  man  should  be  so 
idle  as  to  believe  a  scorpion  had  no  sting  until  he  felt  it, 
or  that  a  viper  had  no  venom  until  it  bit  him,  —  which  is 
a  silly  conceit.  For  there  is  no  man  that  only  then  be¬ 
comes  wicked  when  he  appears  to  be  so ;  but,  having  the 
seeds  and  principles  of  iniquity  within  him  long  before, 
the  thief  steals  when  he  meets  with  a  fit  opportunity,  and 
the  tyrant  violates  the  law  when  he  finds  himself  sur¬ 
rounded  with  sufficient  power.  But  neither  is  the  nature 
and  disposition  of  any  man  concealed  from  God,  as  taking 
upon  him  with  more  exactness  to  scrutinize  the  soul  than 
the  body  ;  nor  does  he  tarry  till  actual  violence  or  lewdness 
be  committed,  to  punish  the  hands  of  the  wrong-doer,  the 
tongue  of  the  profane,  or  the  transgressing  members  of 
the  lascivious  and  obscene.  For  he  does  not  exercise  his 


GOD  IS  SLOW  TO  PUNISH. 


295 


vengeance  on  the  unjust  for  any  wrong  that  he  has  received 
by  his  injustice,  noi  is  he  angry  with  the  highway  robber 
for  any  violence  done  to  himself,  nor  does  he  abominate 
the  adulterer  for  defiling  his  bed ;  but  many  times,  by  way 
of  cure  and  reformation,  he  chastises  the  adulterer,  the 
covetous  miser,  and  the  wronger  of  his  neighbors,  as  phy¬ 
sicians  endeavor  to  subdue  an  epilepsy  by  preventing  the 
coming  of  the  fits. 

21.  What  shall  I  say?  But  even  a  little  before  we 
were  offended  at  the  Gods  protracting  and  delaying  the 
punishments  of  the  wicked,  and  now  we  are  as  much  dis¬ 
pleased  that  they  do  not  curb  and  chastise  the  depravities 
of  an  evil  disposition  before  the  fact  committed  ;  not  con¬ 
sidering  that  many  times  a  mischief  contrived  for  future 
execution  may  prove  more  dreadful  than  a  fact  already 
committed,  and  that  dormant  villany  may  be  more  dan¬ 
gerous  than  open  and  apparent  iniquity ;  not  being  able 
to  apprehend  the  reason  wherefore  it  is  better  to  bear  Avith 
the  unjust  actions  of  some  men,  and  to  prevent  the  medi¬ 
tating  and  contrivance  of  mischief  in  others.  As,  in  truth, 
we  do  not  rightly  comprehend  why  some  remedies  and 
physical  drugs  are  no  Avay  convenient  for  those  that  labor 
under  a  real  disease,  yet  AA^holesome  and  profitable  for 
those  tliat  are  seemingly  in  health,  but  yet  perhaps  in  a 
worse  condition  than  they  who  are  sick.  Whence  it  comes 
to  pass,  that  the  Gods  do  not  always  turn  the  transgres¬ 
sions  of  parents  upon  their  children ;  but  if  a  virtuous  son 
happen  to  be  the  offspring  of  a  Avicked  father,  —  as  often 
it  fiills  out  that  a  sane  child  is  born  of  one  that  is  unsound 
and  crazy,  —  such  a  one  is  exempted  from  the  punishment 
Avhich  threatens  the  Avhole  descent,  as  having  been  adopted 
into  a  virtuous  family.  But  for  a  young  man  that  treads 
in  the  footsteps  of  a  criminal  race,  it  is  but  just  that  he 
should  succeed  to  the  punishment  of  his  ancestor’s  ini¬ 
quity,  as  one  of  the  debts  attached  to  his  inheritance. 


296 


CONCERNING  SUCH  WHOM 


For  neither  was  Antigonus  punished  for  the  crimes  of 
Demetrius ;  nor  (among  the  ancient  heroes)  Phyleus  for 
the  transgressions  of  Augeas,  nor  Nestor  for  the  impiety  of 
Neleus ;  in  regard  that,  though  their  parents  were  wicked, 
yet  they  were  virtuous  themselves.  But  as  for  those  whose 
nature  has  embraced  and  espoused  the  vices  of  their  par¬ 
entage,  them  holy  vengeance  prosecutes,  pursuing  the  like¬ 
ness  and  resemblance  of  sin.  For  as  the  warts  and  moles 
and  freckles  of  parents,  not  seen  upon  the  children  of 
their  own  begetting,  many  times  afterwards  appear  again 
upon  the  children  of  their  sons  and  daughters ;  and  as  the 
Grecian  woman  that  brought  forth  a  blackamore  infant, 
for  which  she  was  accused  of  adultery,  proved  herself, 
upon  diligent  inquiry,  to  be  the  offspring  of  an  Ethiopian 
after  four  generations ;  and  as  among  the  children  of 
Pytho  the  Nisibian,  —  said  to  be  descended  from  the 
Sparti,  that  were  the  progeny  of  those  men  that  sprung 
from  the  teeth  of  Cadmus’s  dragon,  —  the  youngest  of  his 
sons,  who  lately  died,  was  born  with  the  print  of  a  spear 
upon  his  body,  the  usual  mark  of  that  ancient  line,  which, 
not  having  been  seen  for  many  revolutions  of  years  before, 
started  up  again,  as  it  were,  out  of  the  deep,  and  showed 
itself  the  renewed  testimonial  of  the  infant’s  race ;  so 
many  times  it  happens  that  the  first  descents  and  eldest 
races  hide  and  drown  the  passions  and  affections  of  the 
mind  peculiar  to  the  family,  which  afterward  bud  forth 
again,  and  display  the  natural  propensity  of  the  succeeding 
progeny  to  vice  or  virtue. 

22.  Having  thus  concluded,  I  held  my  peace ;  when 
Olympicus  smiling  said:  We  forbear  as  yet  to  give  you 
our  approbation,  that  we  may  not  seem  to  have  forgot  the 
fable  ;  not  but  that  we  believe  your  discourse  to  have  been 
sufficiently  made  out  by  demonstration,  only  Ave  reserve 
our  opinion  till  we  shall  have  heard  the  relation  of  that 
likewise.  Upon  which,  I  began  again  after  this  manner : 


GOD  IS  SLOW  TO  PUNISH. 


297 


There  was  one  Thespesius  of  Soli,  the  friend  and  familiar 
acquaintance  of  that  Protogenes  who  for  some  time  con¬ 
versed  among  us.  This  gentleman,  in  his  youth  leading  a 
debauched  and  intemperate  life,  in  a  short  time  spent  his 
patrimony,  and  then  for  some  years  became  very  wicked ; 
but  afterwards  repenting  of  his  former  follies  and  extrava¬ 
gancies,  and  pursuing  the  recovery  of  his  lost  estate  by  all 
manner  of  tricks  and  shifts,  did  as  is  usual  with  dissolute 
and  lascivious  youth,  who  when  they  have  wives  of  their 
own  never  mind  them  at  all,  but  when  they  have  dismissed 
them,  and  find  them  married  to  others  that  watch  them 
with  a  more  vigilant  affection,  endeavor  to  corrupt  and 
vitiate  them  by  all  the  unjust  and  wicked  provocations 
imaginable.  In  this  humor,  abstaining  from  nothing  that 
was  lewd  and  illegal,  so  it  tended  to  his  gain  and  profit,  he 
got  no  great  matter  of  wealth,  but  procured  to  himself  a 
world  of  infamy  by  his  unjust  and  knavish  dealing  with  all 
sorts  of  people.  Yet  nothing  made  him  more  the  talk  of 
the  country,  than  the  answer  which  was  brought  him  back 
from  the  oracle  of  Amphilochus.  For  thither  it  seems  he 
sent,  to  inquire  of  the  Deity  whether  he  should  live  any 
better  the  remaining  part  of  his  life.  To  which  the  oracle 
returned,  that  it  would  be  better  with  him  after  he  was 
dead.  And  indeed,  not  long  after,  in  some  measure  it  so 
fell  out ;  for  he  happened  to  fall  from  a  certain  precipice 
upon  his  neck,  and  though  he  received  no  wound  nor 
broke  any  limb,  yet  the  force  of  the  fall  beat  the  breath 
out  of  his  body.  Three  days  after,  being  carried  forth  to 
be  buried,  as  they  were  just  ready  to  let  him  down  into 
the  grave,  of  a  sudden  he  came  to  himself,  and  recovering 
his  strength,  so  altered  the  whole  course  of  his  life,  that  it 
was  almost  incredible  to  all  that  knew  him.  For  by  the 
report  of  the  Cilicians,  there  never  was  in  that  age  a  juster 
person  in  common  dealings  between  man  and  man,  more 
devout  and  religious  as  to  divine  worship,  more  an  enemy 


298 


CONCERNING  SUCH  WHOM 


to  the  wicked,  nor  more  constant  and  faithful  to  his  friends ; 

which  was  the  reason  that  they  who  were  more  conversant 

•> 

with  him  were  desirous  to  hear  from  himself  the  cause  of 
so  great  an  alteration,  not  believing  that  so  great  a  ref¬ 
ormation  could  proceed  from  bare  chance ;  though  it  was 
true  that  it  did  so,  as  he  himself  related  to  Protogenes  and 
others  of  his  choicest  friends. 

For  when  his  sense  first  left  his  body,  it  seemed  to  him 
as  if  he  had  been  some  pilot  flung  from  the  helm  by  the 
force  of  a  storm  into  the  midst  of  the  sea.  Afterwards, 
rising  up  again  above  water  by  degrees,  so  soon  as  he 
thought  he  had  fully  recovered  his  breath,  he  looked  about 
him  every  way,  as  if  one  eye  of  his  soul  had  been  open. 
But  he  beheld  nothing  of  those  things  which  he  was  wont 
formerly  to  see,  only  he  saw  stars  of  a  vast  magnitude,  at 
an  immense  distance  one  from  the  other,  and  sending  forth 
a  light  most  wonderful  for  the  brightness  of  its  color,  which 
shot  itself  out  in  length  with  an  incredible  force ;  on  which 
the  soul  riding,  as  it  were  in  a  chariot,  was  most  swiftly, 
yet  as  gently  and  smoothly,  dandled  from  one  place  to 
another.  But  omitting  the  greatest  part  of  the  sights 
which  he  beheld,  he  saw,  as  he  said,  the  souls  of  such  as 
were  newly  departed,  as  »they  mounted  from  below,  re¬ 
sembling  little  fiery  bubbles,  to  which  the  air  gave  way. 
Which  bubbles  afterwards  breaking  insensibly  and  by  de¬ 
grees,  the  soul  came  forth  in  the  shapes  of  men  and  women, 
light  and  nimble,  as  being  discharged  of  all  their  earthly 
substance.  However,  they  differed  in  their  motion ;  for 
some  of  them  leaped  forth  with  a  wonderful  swiftness,  and 
mounted  up  in  a  direct  line ;  others  like  so  many  spindles 
of  spinning-wheels  turned  round  and  round,  sometimes 
whisking  upwards,  sometimes  darting  downwards,  with  a 
confused  and  mixed  agitation,  that  could  hardly  be  stopped 
in  a  very  long  time. 

Of  these  souls  he  knew  not  who  the  most  part  were; 


GOD  IS  SLOW  TO  PUNISH. 


299 


\ 


only  perceiving  two  or  three  of  his  acquaintance,  he  en¬ 
deavored  to  approach  and  discourse  them.  But  they 
neither  heard  him  speak,  neither  indeed  did  they  seem  to 
be  in  their  right  mind,  fluttering  and  out  of  their  senses, 
avoiding  either  to  be  seen  or  felt ;  they  frisked  up  and 
down  at  first,  alone  and  apart  by  themselves,  till  meeting 
at  length  with  others  in  the  same  condition,  they  clung  to¬ 
gether  ;  but  still  their  motions  were  with  the  same  giddiness 
and  uncertainty  as  before,  without  steerage  or  purpose ; 
and  they  sent  forth  inarticulate  sounds,  like  the  cries  of 
soldiers  in  combat,  intermixed  with  the  doleful  yells  of  fear 
and  lamentation.  Others  there  were  that  towered  aloft  in 
the  upper  region  of  the  air,  and  these  looked  gay  and 
pleasant,  and  frequently  accosted  each  other  with  kindness 
and  respect ;  but  they  shunned  those  troubled  souls,  and 
seemed  to  show  discontent  by  crowding  together,  and  joy 
and  pleasure  by  expanding  and  separating  from  each  other. 
One  of  these,  said  he,  being  the  soul  of  a  certain  kinsman, 
—  which,  because  the  person  died  when  he  was  but  very 
young,  he  did  not  very  well  know,  —  drew  near  him,  and 
saluted  him  by  the  name  of  Thespesius ;  at  which  being 
in  a  kind  of  amazement,  and  saying  his  name  was  not 
Thespesius  but  Aridaeus,  the  spirit  replied,  ’twas  true  that 
formerly  he  was  so  called,  but  that  from  thenceforth  he 
must  be  Thespesius,  that  is  to  say  “divine.”  For  thou  art 
not  in  the  number  of  the  dead  as  yet,  it  said,  but  by  a  cer¬ 
tain  destiny  and  permission  of  the  Gods,  thou  art  come 
hither  only  with  thy  intellectual  faculty,  having  left  the 
rest  of  thy  soul,  like  an  anchor,  in  thy  body.  And  that 
thou  mayst  be  assured  of  this,  observe  it  for  a  certain  rule, 
both  now  and  hereafter,  that  the  souls  of  the  deceased 
neither  cast  any  shadow,  neither  do  they  open  and  shut 
their  eyelids.  Thespesius  having  heard  this  discourse,  was 
so  much  the  more  encouraged  to  make  use  of  his  own  rea¬ 
son  ;  and  therefore  looking  round  about  to  prove  the  truth 


300 


CONCERNING  SUCH  WHOM 


of  what  had  been  told  him,  he  could  perceive  that  there 
followed  him  a  kind  of  obscure  and  shadowlike  line, 
whereas  those  other  souls  shone  like  a  round  body  of  per¬ 
fect  light,  and  were  transparent  within.  And  yet  there 
was  a  very  great  difference  between  them  too ;  for  that 
some  yielded  a  smooth,  even,  and  contiguous  lustre,  all  of 
one  color,  like  the  full-moon  in  her  brightest  splendor ; 
others  were  marked  with  long  scales  or  slender  streaks ; 
others  were  all  over  spotted  and  very  ugly  to  look  upon, 
as  being  covered  with  black  speckles  like  the  skins  of 
vipers  ;  and  others  were  marked  by  faint  scratches. 

Moreover,  this  kinsman  of  Thespesius  (for  nothing  hin¬ 
ders  but  that  we  may  call  the  souls  by  the  names  of  the 
persons  which  they  enlivened),  proceeding  to  give  a  rela¬ 
tion  of  several  other  things,  informed  his  friend  how  that 
Adrastea,  the  daughter  of  Jupiter  and  Necessity,  was  seated 
in  the  highest  place  of  all,  to  punish  all  manner  of  crimes 
and  enormities ;  and  that  in  the  whole  number  of  the 
wicked  and  ungodly,  there  never  was  any  one,  whether 
great  or  little,  high  or  low,  rich  or  poor,  that  ever  could 
by  force  or  cunning  escape  the  severe  lashes  of  her  rigor. 
But  as  there  are  three  sorts  of  punishments,  so  there  are 
three  several  Furies,  or  female  ministers  of  justice  ;  and  to 
every  one  of  these  belongs  a  peculiar  office  and  degree  of 
punishment.  The  first  of  these  was  called  Speedy  Punish¬ 
ment,  who  takes  in  charge  those  that  are  presently  to  re¬ 
ceive  bodily  punishment  in  this  life,  which  she  manages 
after  a  more  gentle  manner,  omitting  the  correction  of 
many  offences  which  need  expiation.  But  if  the  cure  of 
impiety  require  a  greater  labor,  the  Deity  delivers  them 
after  death  to  Justice.  But  when  Justice  has  given  them 
over  as  altogether  incurable,  then  the  third  and  most  severe 
of  all  Adrastea’s  ministers,  Erinnys  (the  Fury),  takes  them 
in  hand ;  and  after  she  has  chased  and  coursed  them  from 
one  place  to  another,  flying,  yet  not  knowing  where  to 


I 


GOD  IS  SLOW  TO  PUNISH. 


301 


fly,  for  shelter  or  relief,  plagued  ahd  tormented  with  a 
thousand  miseries,  she  plunges  them  headlong  into  an 
invisible  abyss,  the  hideousness  of  which  no  tongue  car 
express. 

Now,  of  all  these  three  sorts,  that  which  is  inflicted  by 
punishment  in  this  life  resembles  the  practice  among  the 
barbarians.  For,  as  among  the  Persians,  they  take  off  the 
garments  and  turbans  of  those  that  are  to  be  punished,  and 
tear  and  whip  them  before  the  offender’s  faces,  while  the 
criminals,  with  tears  and  lamentations,  beseech  the  execu¬ 
tioners  to  give  over ;  so  corporal  punishments,  and  penal¬ 
ties  by  mulcts  and  fines,  have  no  sharpness  or  severity,  nor 
do  they  take  hold  upon  the  vice  itself,  but  are  inflicted  for 
the  most  part  only  with  regard  to  appearance  and  to  the 
outward  sense.  But  if  any  one  comes  hither  that  has 
escaped  punishment  while  he  lived  upon  earth  and  before 
he  was  well  purged  from  his  crimes,  Justice  takes  him  to 
task,  naked  as  he  is,  with  his  soul  displayed,  as  having 
nothing  to  conceal  or  veil  his  impiety  ;  but  on  all  sides  and 
to  all  men’s  eyes  and  every  way  exposed,  she  shows  him 
first  to  his  honest  parents,  if  he  had  any  such,  to  let  them 
see  how  degenerate  he  was  and  unworthy  of  his  pro¬ 
genitors.  But  if  they  were  wicked  likewise,  then  are 
their  sufferings  rendered  yet  more  terrible  by  the  mutual 
sight  of  each  other’s  miseries,  and  those  for  a  long  time 
inflicted,  till  each  individual  crime  has  been  quite  effaced 
with  pains  and  torments  as  far  surmounting  in  sharpness 
and  severity  all  punishments  and  tortures  of  the  flesh,  as 
what  is  real  and  evident  surpasses  an  idle  dream.  But  the 
weals  and  stripes  that  remain  after  punishment  appear 
more  signal  in  some,  in  others  are  less  evident. 

View  there,  said  he,  those  various  colors  of  souls.  That 
same  black  and  sordid  hue  is  the  tincture  of  avarice  and 
fraud.  That  bloody  and  flame-like  dye  betokens  cruelty, 
and  an  imbittered  desire  of  revenge.  Where  you  perceive 


302 


CONCERNING  SUCH  WHOM 


a  bluish  color,  it  is  a  sign  that  soul  will  hardly  be  cleansed 
from  the  impurities  of  lascivious  pleasure  and  voluptuous¬ 
ness.  Lastly,  that  same  dark,  violet,  and  venomous  color, 
resembling  the  sordid  ink  which  the  cuttle  fish  spews  up, 
proceeds  from  envy.  For  as  during  life  the  wickedness  of 
the  soul,  being  governed  by  human  passions  and  itself 
governing  the  body,  occasions  this  variety  of  colors ;  so 
here  it  is  the  end  of  expiation  and  punishment,  when  these 
are  cleansed  away,  and  the  soul  recovers  her  native  lustre 
and  becomes  clear  and  spotless.  But  so  long  as  these  re¬ 
main,  there  will  be  some  certain  returns  of  the  passions, 
accompanied  with  little  pantings  and  beatings,  as  it  were 
of  the  pulse,  in  some  remiss  and  languid  and  quickly  ex¬ 
tinguished,  in  others  more  quick  and  vehement.  Some  of 
these  souls,  being  again  and  again  chastised,  recover  a  due 
habit  and  disposition ;  while  others,  by  the  force  of  igno¬ 
rance  and  the  enticing  show  of  pleasure,  are  carried  into 
the  bodies  of  brute  beasts.  For  while  some,  through  the 
feebleness  of  their  ratiocinating,  while  their  slothfulness 
will  not  permit  them  to  contemplate,  are  impelled  by  their 
active  principle  to  seek  a  new  generation ;  others  again, 
wanting  the  instrument  of  intemperance,  yet  desirous  to 
gratify  their  desires  with  the  full  swing  of  enjoyment,  en¬ 
deavor  to  promote  their  designs  by  means  of  the  body. 
But  alas !  here  is  nothing  but  an  imperfect  shadow  and 
dream  of  pleasure,  that  never  attains  to  ability  of  perform¬ 
ance.' 

Having  thus  said,  the  spirit  quickly  carried  Thespesius 
to  a  certain  place,  as  it  appeared  to  him,  prodigiously 
spacious ;  yet  so  gently  and  without  the  least  deviation, 
that  he  seemed  to  be  borne  upon  the  rays  of  the  light  as 
upon  wings.  Thus  at  length  he  came  to  a  certain  gaping 
chasm,  that  was  fathomless  downward,  where  he  found 
himself  deserted  by  that  extraordinary  force  which  brought 
him  thither,  and  perceived  other  souls  also  to  be  there  in 


GOD  IS  SLOW  TO  PUNISH. 


303 


the  same  condition.  For  hovering  upon  the  wing  in  flocks 
together  ,  like  birds,  they  kept  flying  round  and  round  the 
yawning  rift,  but  durst  not  enter  into  it.  Now  this  same 
cleft  withinside  resembled  the  dens  of  Bacchus,  fringed 
about  with  the  pleasing  verdure  of  various  herbs  and 
plants,  that  yielded  a  more  delightful  prospect  still  of  all 
sorts  of  flowers,  enamelling  the  green  so  with  a  wonderful 
diversity  of  colors,  and  breathing  forth  at  the  same  time  a 
soft  and  gentle  breeze,  which  perfumed  all  the  ambient  air 
with  odors  most  surprising,  as  grateful  to  the  smell  as  the 
sweet  flavor  of  wine  to  those  that  love  it.  Insomuch  that 
the  souls  banqueting  upon  these  fragrancies  were  almost 
all  dissolved  in  raptures  of  mirth  and  caresses  one  among 
another,  there  being  nothing  to  be  heard  for  some  fair 
distance  round  about  the  place,  but  jollity  and  laughter, 
and  all  the  cheerful  sounds  of  joy  and  harmony,  which  are 
usual  among  people  that  pass  their  time  in  sport  and  merri¬ 
ment. 

The  spirit  said,  moreover,  that  Bacchus  ascended  through 
this  overture  to  heaven,  and  afterwards  returning  fetched 
up  Semele  the  same  way ;  and  that  it  was  called  the  place 
of  oblivion.  Wherefore  his  kinsman  would  not  suffer 
Thespesius  to  tarry  there  any  longer,  though  very  unwill¬ 
ing  to  depart,  but  took  him  away  by  force ;  informing  and 
instructing  him  withal,  how  strangely  and  how  suddenly  the 
mind  was  subject  to  be  softened  and  melted  by  pleasure  ; 
that  the  irrational  and  corporeal  part,  being  watered  and 
incarnated  thereby,  revives  the  memory  of  the  body, 
and  that  from  this  remembrance  proceed  concupiscence 
and  desire,  exciting  an  appetite  for  a  new  generation  and 
entrance  into  a  body  —  which  is  named  yevsmg  as  being  an 
inclination  towards  the  earth  (tTt)  yijv  vEvaig)  —  when  the  soul 
IS  weighed  down  with  overmuch  moisture. 

At  length,  after  he  had  been  carried  as  far  another  way 
as  when  he  was  transported  to  the  yawning  overture,  he 


304 


CONCERNING  SUCH  WHOM 


thought  he  beheld  a  prodigious  standing  goblet,  into  which 
several  rivers  discharged  themselves ;  among  which  there 
was  o]ie  whiter  than  snow  or  the  foam  of  the  sea,  another 
resemlded  the  purple  color  of  the  rainbow.  The  tinctures 
of  the  rest  were  various ;  besides  that,  they  had  their  sev¬ 
eral  lustres  at  a  distance.  But  when  he  drew  nearer,  the 
ambient  air  became  more  subtile  and  rarefied,  and  the  colors 
vanished,  so  the  goblet  retained  no  more  of  its  fiourishing 
beauty  except  the  white.  At  the  same  time  he  saw  three  ^ 
Daemons  sitting  together  in  a  triangular  aspect,  and  blend¬ 
ing  and  mixing  the  rivers  together  with  certain  measures. 
Thus  far,  said  the  guide  of  Thespesius’s  soul,  did  Orpheus 
come,  when  he  sought  after  the  soul  of  his  wife ;  and  not 
well  remembering  what  he  had  seen,  upon  his  return  he 
raised  a  false  report  in  the  world,  that  the  oracle  at  Delphi 
was  in  common  to  Night  and  Apollo,  whereas  Apollo  never 
had  any  thing  in  common  with  Night.  But,  said  the  spirit, 
this  oracle  is  in  common  to  Night  and  to  the  Moon,  no  way 
included  within  earthly  bounds,  nor  having  any  fixed  or 
certain  seat,  but  always  wandering  among  men  in  dreams 
and  visions.  For  from  hence  it  is  that  all  dreams  are  dis¬ 
persed,  compounded  as  they  are  of  truth  jumbled  with 
falsehood,  and  sincerity  with  the  various  mixtures  of  craft 
and  delusion.  But  as  for  the  oracle  of  Apollo,  said  the 
spirit,  you  neither  do  see  it,  neither  can  you  behold  it ;  for 
the  earthly  part  of  the  soul  is  not  capable  to  release  or  let 
itself  loose,  nor  is  it  permitted  to  reach  sublimity,  but  it 
swags  downward,  as  being  fastened  to  the  body. 

And  with  that,  leading  Thespesius  nearer,  the  spirit  en¬ 
deavored  to  show  him  the  light  of  the  Tripod,  which,  as  he 
said,  shooting"  through  the  bosom  of  Themis,  fell  upon 
Parnassus ;  which  Thespesius  was  desirous  to  see,  but 
could  not,  in  regard  the  extraordinary  brightness  of  the 
light  dazzled  his  eyes  ;  only  passing  by,  he  heard  the  shrill 
voice  of  a  woman  speaking  in  verse  and  measure,  and 


GOD  IS  SLOW  TO  PUNISH. 


305 


among  other  things,  as  he  thought,  foretelling  the  time  of 
his  death.  This  the  genius  told  him  was  the  voice  of  a 
Sibyl  who,  being  orbicularly  whirled  about  in  the  face  of 
tlie  moon,  continually  sang  of  future  events.  Thereupon 
being  desirous  to  hear  more,  he  was  tossed  the  quite  con¬ 
trary  way  by  the  violent  motion  of  the  moon,  as  by  the 
force  of  rolling  waves  ;  so  that  he  could  hear  but  very  little, 
and  that  very  concisely  too.  Among  other  things,  he  heard 
what  was  prophesied  concerning  the  mountain  Vesuvius, 
and  the  future  destruction  of  Dicaearchia  by  tire  ;  together 
with  a  piece  of  a  verse  concerning  a  certain  emperor  *  or 
great  famous  chieftain  of  that  age. 

Who,  though  so  just  that  no  man  could  accuse, 

Howe’er  his  empire  should  by  sickness  lose. 

After  this,  they  passed  on  to  behold  the  torments  of  those 
that  were  punished.  And  indeed  at  first  they  met  with 
none  but  lamentable  and  dismal  sights.  For  Thespesius, 
when  he  least  suspected  any  such  thing,  and  before  he  was 
aware,  was  got  among  his  kindred,  his  acquaintance,  and 
companions,  who,  groaning  under  the  horrid  pains  of  their 
cruel  and  ignominious  punishments,  with  mournful  cries 
and  lamentations  called  him  by  his  name.  At  length  he 
saw  his  father  ascending  out  of  a  certain  abyss,  all  full  of 
stripes,  gashes,  and  scars ;  who  stretching  forth  his  hands 
—  not  permitted  to  keep  silence,  but  constrained  to  confess 
by  his  tormentors  —  acknowledged  that  he  had  most  im¬ 
piously  poisoned  several  of  his  guests  for  the  sake  of  their 
gold ;  of  which  not  being  detected  while  he  lived  upon 
earth,  but  being  convicted  after  his  decease,  he  had  endured 
part  of  his  torments  already,  and  now  they  were  haling 
him  where  he  should  suffer  more.  However;  he  durst  not 
either  entreat  or  intercede  for  his  father,  such  was  his  fear 
and  consternation ;  and  therefore  being  desirous'  to  retire 
and  be  gone,  he  looked  about  for  his  kind  and  courteous 

*  The  Emperor  Vespasian. 


306 


CONCERNING  SUCH  WHOM 


guide ;  but  he  had  quite  left  him,  so  that  he  saw  him  no 
more. 

Nevertheless,  being  pushed  forward  by  other  deformed 
and  grim-looked  goblins,  as  if  there  had  been  some  neces¬ 
sity  for  him  to  pass  forward,  he  saw  how  that  the  shadows 
of  such  as  had  been  notorious  malefactors,  and  had  been 
punished  in  this  world,  were  not  tormented  so  grievously 
nor  alike  to  the  others,  in  regard  that  only  the  imperfect 
and  irrational  part  of  the  soul,  which  was  consequently 
most  subject  to  .passions,  was  that  which  made  them  so 
industrious  in  vice.  Whereas  those  who  had  shrouded  a 
vicious  and  impious  life  under  the  outward  profession  and 
a  gained  opinion  of  virtue,  their  tormentors  constrained  to 
turn  their  insides  outward  with  great  difficulty  and  dread¬ 
ful  pain,  and  to  writhe  and  screw  themselves  contrary  to 
the  course  of  nature,  like  the  sea  scolopenders,  which, 
having  swallowed  the  hook,  throw  forth  their  bowels  and 
lick  it  out  again.  Others  they  flayed  an'd  scarified,  to 
display  their  occult  hypocrisies  and  latent  impieties,  which 
had  possessed  and  corrupted  the  principal  part  of  their 
souls.  Other  souls,  as  he  said,  he  also  saw,  which  being 
twisted  two  and  two,  three  and  three,  or  more  together 
gnawed  and  devoured  each  other,  either  upon  the  score  of 
old  grudges  and  former  malice  they  had  borne  one  another,' 
or  else  in  revenge  of  the  injuries  and  losses  they  had  sus¬ 
tained  upon  earth. 

Moreover,  he  said,  there  were  certain  lakes  that  lay 
parallel  and  equidistant  one  from  the  other,  the  one  of 
boiling  gold,  another  of  lead,  exceeding  cold,  and  the 
third  of  iron,  which  was  very  scaly  and  rugged.  By  the 
sides  of  these  lakes  stood  certain  Daemons,  that  with  their 
instruments,  like  smiths  or  founders,  put  in  or  drew  out 
the  souls  of  such  as  had  transgressed  either  through  avar¬ 
ice  or  an  eager  desire  of  other  men’s  goods.  For  the  flame 
of  the  golden  furnace  having  rendered  these  soi3s  of  a  fiery 


GOD  IS  SLOW  TO  PUNISH. 


307 


and  transparent  color,  they  plunged  them  into  that  of  lead  ; 
where  after  they  were  congealed  and  hardened  into  a  sub¬ 
stance  like  hail,  they  were  then  thrown  into  the  lake  of 
iron,  where  they  became  black  and  deformed,  and  being 
broken  and  crumbled  by  the  roughness  of  the  iron,  changed 
their  form ;  and  being  thus  transformed,  they  were  again 
thrown  into  the  lake  of  gold ;  in  all  these  transmutations 
enduring  most  dreadful  and  horrid  torments.  But  they 
that  suffered  the  most  dire  and  dismal  torture  of  all  were 
those  who,  thinking  that  divine  vengeance  had  no  more  to 
say  to  them,  were  again  seized  and  dragged  to  repeated 
execution ;  and  these  were  those  for  whose  transgression 
their  children  or  posterity  had  suffered.  For  when  any  of 
the  souls  of  those  children  come  hither  and  meet  with  any 
of  their  parents  or  ancestors,  they  fall  into  a  passion,  ex¬ 
claim  against  them,  and  show  them-  the  marks  of  what  they 
have  endured.  On  the  other  side,  the  souls  of  the  parents 
endeavor  to  sneak  out  of  sight  and  hide  themselves ;  but 
the  others  follow  them  so  close  at  the  heels,  and  load  them 
in  such  a  manner  with  bitter  taunts  and  reproaches,  that 
not  being  able  to  escape,  their  tormentors  presently  lay 
hold  of  them,  and  hale  them  to  new  tortures,  howling  and 
yelling  at  the  very  thought  of  what  they  have  suffered 
already.  And  some  of  these  souls  of  suffering  posterity, 
he  said,  there  were,  that  swarmed  and  clung  together  like 
bees  or  bats,  and  in  that  posture  murmured  forth  their  an¬ 
gry  complaints  of  the  miseries  and  calamities  which  they 

had  endured  for  their  sakes. 

( 

The  last  things  that  he  saw  were  the  souls  of  such  as 
were  designed  for  a  second  life.  These  were  bowed,  bent, 
and  transformed  into  all  sorts  of  creatures  by  the  force  of 
tools  and  anvils  and  the  strength  of  workmen  appointed 
for  that  purpose,  that  laid  on  without  mercy,  bruising  the 
whole  liml^  of  some,  breaking  others,  disjointing  others, 
and  pounding  some  to  powder  and  annihilation,  on  purpose 


308  OF  THOSE  WHOM  GOD  IS  SLOW  TO  PUF 

to  render  them  fit  for  other  lives  and  manners.  Among 
the  rest,  he  saw  the  soul  of  Nero  many  ways  most  griev¬ 
ously  tortured,  hut  more  especially  transfixed  with  iron 
nails.  This  soul  the  workmen  took  in  hand ;  but  when 
they  had  forged  it  into  the  form  of  one  of  Pindar’s  vipers, 
which  eats  its  way  to  life  through  the  bowels  of  the  female, 
of  a  sudden  a  conspicuous  light  shone  out,  and  a  voice 
was  heard  out  of  the  light,  which  gave  order  for  the  trans¬ 
figuring  it  again  into  the  shape  of  some  more  mild  and 
gentle  creature ;  and  so  they  made  it  to  resemble  one  of 
those  creatures  that  usually  sing  and  croak  about  the  sides 
of  ponds  and  marshes.  For  indeed  he  had  in  some  meas¬ 
ure  been‘punished  for  the  crimes  he  had  committed ;  be¬ 
sides,  there  was  some  compassion  due  to  him  from  the 
Gods,  for  that  he  had  restored  the  Grecians  to  their  liberty, 
a  nation  the  most  noble  and  best  beloved  of  the  Gods 
among  all  his  subjects.  And  now  being  about  to  return, 
such  a  terrible  dread  surprised  Thespesius  as  had  al¬ 
most  frighted  him  out  of  his  wits.  For  a  certain  woman, 
admirable  for  her  form  and  stature,  laying  hold  of  his  arm, 
said  to  him :  Come  hither,  that  thou  mayst  the  better  be 
enabled  to  retain  the  remembrance  of  what  thou  hast  seen. 
With  that  she  was  about  to  strike  him  with  a  small  fiery 
wand,  not  much  unlike  to  those  that  painters  use ;  but 
another  woman  prevented  her.  After  this,  as  he  thought 
himself,  he  was  whirled  or  hurried  away  with  a  strong  and 
violent  wind,  forced  as  it  were  through  a  pipe ;  and  so 
lighting  again  into  his  own  body,  he  awoke  and  found 
himself  on  the  brink  of  his  own  grave. 


OF  GARRULITY,  OR  TALKATIVENESS 


1.  It  is  a  troublesome  and  difficult  task  that  philosopliy 
undertakes  in  going  about  to  cure  the  disease,  or  rather 
itch,  of  intemperate  prating.  For  that  words,  which  are 
the  sole  remedy  against  it,  require  attention  ;  but  they  who 
are  given  to  prate  will  hear  nohody,  as  being  a  sort  of 
people  that  love  to  be  always  talking  themselves.  So  that 
the  principal  vice  of  loquacious  persons  is  this,  that  their 
ears  are  stopped  to  every  thing  else  but  their  own  imper- 
tinencies ;  which  I  take  to  be  a  wilful  deafness  in  men, 
controlling  and  contradicting  Nature,  that  has  given  us  two 
ears,  though  but  one  tongue.  Therefore  it  was  that  Eurip¬ 
ides  spoke  very  right  to  a  certain  stupid  hearer  of  his : 

Impossible  it  is  to  fill  that  brain, 

That  in  a  moment  lets  out  all  again ; 

^Tis  but  the  words  of  wisdom  to  unfold 
Unto  a  fool,  whose  skull  will  nothing  hold.* 

More  justly  and  truly  might  I  say  to  an  idle  prate-too-fast, 
or  rather  concerning  such  a  fellow : 

In  vain  I  seek  to  fill  thy  sieve-like  brain, 

That  in  a  moment  lets  out  all  again  ; 

Infusing  wisdom  into  such  a  skull 
As  leaks  so  fast,  it  never  will  be  full. 

i 

Much  more  may  he  be  said  to  spill  his  instructions  over 
(rather  than  pour  them  into)  a  man,  who  is  always  talking 
to  those  that  do  not  hear,  and  never  hears  wffien  others 


*  Euripides,  Frag.  891. 


310 


OF  GARRULITY,  OR  TALKATIVENESS. 


talk.  For  so  soon  as  a  wise  man  has  uttered  any  thing,  be 
it  never  so  short,  garrulity  swallows  it  forthwith  like  the 
sea,  and  throws  it  up  again  threefold,  with  the  violence  of 
a  swelling  tide.  Such  was  the  portico  at  Olympia,  called 
Heptaphonos,  by  the  reverberation  of  one  single  voice 
causing  no  less  than  seven  distinct  echoes.  And  in  like 
manner,  if  the  least  word  light  into  the  ears  of  an  imper¬ 
tinent  babbler,  presently  all  the  room  rings  with  it,  and  he 
makes  such  a  din. 

That  soon  the  jangling  noise  untunes  the  strings 
Of  minds  sedately  fixt  on  better  things. 

Insomuch  that  we  may  say,  that  the  conduits  and  convey¬ 
ances  of  their  hearing  reach  not  to  the  souls,  but  only  to 
their  tongues.  Therefore  it  is  that  other  people  fetain 
what  is  spoken  to  them  ;  whereas,  whatever  is  said  to  talk¬ 
ative  people  runs  through  them  as  through  a  cullender ; 
and  then  they  run  about  from  place  to  place,  like  empty 
vessels  void  of  sense  Or  wit,  but  making  a  hideous  noise. 

2.  However,  in  hopes  that  there  is  yet  some  room  left 
to  try  an  experiment  for  the  cure  of  this  distemper,  let  us 
begin  with  this  golden  sentence  to  the  impertinent  prater  *- 

Be  silent,  boy,  and  thou  wilt  find  i’  th’  end. 

What  benefits  on  silent  lips  attend.* 

Among  these  benefits  two  of  the  first  and  chiefest  are  to 
hear  and  to  be  heard.  To  neither  of  which  can  these 
talkative  companions  ever  attain ;  so  unhappy  they  are 
*  still  to  meet  with  disappointments,  though  they  desire  a 
thing  never  so  much.  For  as  for  those  other  distempers 
of  the  soul,  such  as  avarice,  ambition,  and  exorbitant  love 
of  pleasure,  they  have  this  happiness,  to  enjoy  what  they 
so  eagerly  covet.  But  this  is  that  which  most  afflicts  these 
idle  prattlers,  that  being  desirous  of  nothing  more  than 
of  company  that  will  hear  them  prate,  they  can  never  meet 
with  it,  in  regard  that  all  men  avoid  their  society;  and 

*  From  the  Aleadae  of  Sophocles,  Frag.  79. 


OF  GARRULITY,  OR  TALKATIVENESS. 


311 


whether  sitting  in  a  knot  together  or  walking,  so  soon  as 
they  behold  a  prattler  advancing  towards  them,  they  pres¬ 
ently  give  warning  to  each  other  and  adjourn  to  another 
place,  i^nd  as,  when  there  happens  a  deep  silence  in  any 
assembly,  so  that  all  the  company  seems  to  be  mute,  we 
say  that  Mercury  is  got  among  them ;  so  when  a  fool,  full 
of  noise  and  talk,  enters  into  any  room  where  friends  and 
acquaintance  are  met  to  discourse  or  else  to  feast  and  be 
merry,  all  people  are  hushed  of  a  sudden,  as  afraid  of  giv¬ 
ing  him  any' occasion  to  set  his  tongue  upon  the  career. 
But  if  he  once  begin  to  open  his  mouth,  up  they  rise  and 
away  they  trip,  like  seamen  foreseeing  a  sudden  storm  and 
rolling  of  the  waves,  when  they  hear  “the  north  wind  be¬ 
gin  to  whistle  from  some  adjoining  promontory,”  and  has¬ 
tening  into  harbor.  Whence  it  comes  to  pass,  that  he 
never  can  meet  with  any  that  are  willing  either  to  eat  or 
drink  or  lodge  with  him  in  the  same  room,  either  upon  the 
road  or  upon  a  voyage,  unless  constrained  thereto  by  ne¬ 
cessity.  For  so  importunate  he  is  in  all  places,  that  some¬ 
times  he  will  pull  you  by  the  coat,  sometimes  by  the  beard, 
and  sometimes  be  hunching  your  sides,  to  make  you  speak. 
How  highly  then  are  to  be  prized  a  swift  pair  of  legs,  ac¬ 
cording  to  the  saying  of  Archilochus !  Nay,  by  Jove,  it 
was  the  opinion  of  wise  Aristotle  himself.  For  he  being 
perplexed  with  an  egregious  prater,  and  tired  out  with  his 
absurd  stories  and  idle  repetitions  of,  “  And  is  not  this  a 
w^onderful  thing,  Aristotle?”  —  No  wonder  at  all,  said  he' 
is  this ;  but  if  a  man  should  stand  still  to  hear  you  prate 
thus,  who  had  legs  to  run  away,  that  were  a  wonder  indeed. 
To  another  of  the  same  stamp  that,  after  a  long  tale  of  a 
roasted  horse,  excused  himself  by  saying  that  he  was  afraid 
he  had  tired  him  with  his  prolixity ;  No,  upon  my  word, 
quoth  the  philosopher,  for  I  never  minded  what  you  said. 
On  the  other  side,  should  it  so  fall  out  that  there  was  no 
avoiding  the  vexation  of  one  of  these  chattering  fops,  Na- 


312 


OF  GARRULITY,  OR  TALKATIVENESS. 


ture  has  afforded  us  this  happiness,  that  it  is  in  the  power 
of  the  soul  to  lend  the  outward  ears  of  the  body,  to  endure 
the  brunt  of  the  noise,  while  she  retires  to  the  remoter 
apartments  of  the  mind,  and  there  employs  herself  in  bet¬ 
ter  and  more  useful  thoughts.  By  which  means  those 
sonorous  babblers  are  at  the  same  time  disappointed,  as 
w’ell  of  auditors,  as  of  people  that  believe  what  they  say. 
All  men  look  upon  their  vain  babbling  with  the  same  opin¬ 
ion  that  they  have  of  the  seed  of  people  insatiably  addicted 
to  the  use  of  women  ;  for  as  the  one  is  barren  and  useless 
for  generation,  so  is  the  other  void  of  the  end  of  discourse, 
altogether  frivolous  and  impertinent. 

3.  And  yet  there  is  no  member  of  human  bodies  that 
Nature  has  so  strongly  enclosed  within  a  double  fortifica¬ 
tion,  as  the  tongue,  entrenched  within  with  a  barricade  of 
sharp  teeth,  to  the  end  that,  if  it  refuses  to  obey  and  keep 
silent  when  reason  “  presses  the  glittering  reins  ”  within, 
we  should  fix  our  teeth  in  it  till  the  blood  comes,  rather 
than  suffer  the  inordinate  and  unseasonable  din.  For,  ac- 
•  cording  to  the  saying  of  Euripides, 

Our  miseries  do  not  spring 
From  houses  wanting  locks  or  bolts , 

But  from  unbridled  tongues, 

Ill  used  by  prating  fools  and  dolts. 

And  truly,  I  must  tell  you,  that  they  who  think  that  houses 
without  doors,  and  purses  without  strings,  are  of  no  use  to 
Hieir  masters,  yet  at  the  same  time  set  neither  fence  nor 
door  before  their  lips,  but  suffer  a  continual  torrent  of  vain 
and  idle  discourse  to  flow  through  them,  like  the  perpetu¬ 
al  flux  of  water  through  the  mouth  of  the  Pontic  sea,  seem 
to  me  to  have  the  least  esteem  for  human  speech  of  all 
men  in  the  world.  Whence  it  comes  to  pass  that  they 
never  gain  belief,  which  is  the  end  of  all  discourse.  For 
tlie  main  scope  and  intent|on  of  all  men  that  speak  is  to 

*  See  Eurip.  Baccbae,  385. 


OF  GARRULITY,  OR  TALKATIVENESS. 


313 


gain  a  belief  of  what  they  utter  with  those  that  hear  them  ; 
whereas  talkative  noise-makers  are  never  'believed,  let 
them  speak  never  so  much  truth.  For  as  wheat,  when 
crow'ded  into  a  musty  vessel,  is  found  to  exceed  in  meas¬ 
ure,  but  to  be  unwholesome  for  use ;  so  the  discourse  of  a 
loquacious  person  swells  and  enlarges  itself  with  lies  and 
falsehood,  but  in  the  mean  time  it  loses  all  force  of  per¬ 
suasion. 

4.  Then  again,  there  is  no  man  of  modesty  and  civil¬ 
ity  but  would  be  careful  of  preserving  himself  from 
drunkenness.  For  anger,  as  some  are  of  opinion,  is 
the  next  neighbor  to  madness,  while  drunkenness  doth 
dwell  in  the  very  same  house  with  it ;  or  rather,  drunken¬ 
ness  is  madness  itself,  inferior  to  it  in  continuance  of  time, 
vet  far  exceeding  it  as  it  is  voluntarv,  since  it  is  a  madness 
of  our  own  choice.  Now  there  is  nothing  for  which  drunk- 
enness  is  so  much  abominated  and  decried,  as  for  that 
if  is  the  cause  of  inordinate  and  unlimited  babbling  and 
prating. 

Heated  with  wine,  the  man  at  other  times 

Both  wise  and  grave  sings  loose  and  wanton  rhymes ; 

He  minds  not  loud  indecent  laughter  then, 

Nor  mimic  dancing,  scorned  by  sober  meu.^ 

And  yet  both  singing,  laughing,  and  dancing  are  all  but 
trifles  to  that  which  follows,  the  consequences  of  which 
are  oft-times  fatal : 

He  blurts  those  secrets  forth,  which  once  revealed, 

Too  late  he  wishes  they  had  been  concealed. 

This  is  that  which  oftentimes  proves  dangerous,  if  not 
terrible,  to  the  discoverer.  And  who  knows  but  that  the 
poet  might  here  design  to  resolve  a  question  much  dis¬ 
puted  among  philosophers,  —  that  is  to  say,  what  the  dif¬ 
ference  is  , between  being  tipsy  and  stark  drunk,  —  by 
attributing  to  the  former  only  mirth  and  jollity  of  humor, 

*  See  Odyss.  XIV.  4GL 


314 


OF  GARRULITY,  OR  TALKATIVENESS. 


but  branding  the  latter  with  the  foul  reproach  of  noxious 
babbling  ]  For,  according  to  the  proverb, 

What  the  sober  heart  conceals, 

That  the  drunken  heart  reveals. 

Wherefore  it  is  reported  of  Bias,  that  sitting  very  silent  at  • 
a  compotation,  drinking  only  when  it  came  to  his  turn,  and 
being  laughed  at  by  one  whose  tongue  ran  at  random,  who 
for  his  silence  called  him  mope  and  fool,  he  made  this  re¬ 
ply  :  Find  me  out  that  fool,  said  he,  that  e’er  could  hold 
his  tongue  in  his  cups. 

A  citizen  of  Athens,  having  invited  the  king  of  Persia’s 
ambassadors  to  a  magnificent  feast,  at  their  request  gave 
the  same  invitation  to  the  most  eminent  philosophers  in 
the  city,  to  bear  them  company.  Now,  when  all  the  rest 
were  propounding  of  themes,  and  raising  arguments  pro 
and  con,  and  others  were  maintaining  of  paradoxes  to  show 
their  wit  and  learning,  only  Zeno  sat  still,  so  reserved  and 
mute  that  the  ambassadors  took  notice  of  it ;  and  there¬ 
upon,  after  they  thought  they  had  opened  his  heart  with 
two  or  three  lusty  brimmers.  Pray  tell  us,  Zeno,  said  they, 
what  report  we  shall  make  concerning  thee  to  our  master] 
To  whom  Zeno :  Nothing  more,  said  he,  but  that  there 
was  an  old  man  at  Athens  that  could  hold  his  tongue  in 
the  midst  of  his  cups.  Such  profound  and  divine  mysteri¬ 
ous  virtues  are  silence  and  sobriety ;  whereas  drunkenness 
is  loquacious,  void  of  reason  and  understanding,  and 
therefore  full  of  jangling  and  impertinent  tautologies. 
Wherefore  the  philosophers,  when  they  come  to  define 
drunkenness,  call  it  “  vain  talk  over  wine.”  So  that  drink¬ 
ing  is  not  condemned,  provided  a  man  keep  himself  within 
the  bounds  of  silence  ;  only  vain  and  silly  discourse  makes 
wine-bibbing  to  be  drunkenness.  He  then  that  is  drunk 
talks  idly  over  his  wine  ;  but  the  babbler  does  it  every¬ 
where, —  in  the  market-place,  at  the  theatre,  in  the  public 
walks,  as  well  by  night  as  by  day.  If  he  be  a  physician, 


OF  GARRULITY,  OR  TALKATIVENESS. 


315 


certainly  he  is  more  troublesome  than  the  disease  ;  if  your 
companion  in  a  voyage,  more  insupportable  than  the 
qualms  occasioned  by  the  tumbling  of  the  sea.  If  he 
praise  thee,  his  panegyric  is  more  offensive  than  the 
reproaches  of  another.  It  is  a  greater  pleasure  to 
converse  with  vicious  men,  so  they  be  discreet  in  their  lan¬ 
guage,  than  with  twaddlers,  though  never  so  honest.  There¬ 
fore  Nestor  in  Sophocles,  desirous  to  appease  exasperated 
Ajax,  mildly  thus  rebuked  him : 

I  blame  thee  not,  for  though  thy  words  are  ill, 

Thy  deeds  bespeak  thee  brave  and  valiant  still.* 

But  there  is  not  the  same  excuse  to  be  made  for  a  vain 
babbling  fellow ;  for  the  ill  government  of  his  tongue  cor¬ 
rupts  and  vitiates  all  the  merits  of  his  actions. 

5.  Lysias  had  given  to  a  certain  accused  criminal  an 
oration  of  his  own  writing.  He,  having,  read  it  several 
times  over,  came  to  Lysias  very  much  dejected,  and  told 
him  that,  upon  his  first  perusal  of  it,  it  seemed  to  him 
to  be  a  most  admirable  piece ;  but  after  he  had  read  it 
three  or  four  times  over,  he  could  see  nothing  in  it  but 
what  \vas  very  dull  and  insipid.  To  whom  Lysias,  smil¬ 
ing  :  What,  said  he,  is  not  once  enough  to  speak  it  before 
the  judges'?  And  yet  do  but  consider  the  persuasive  elo¬ 
quence  and  grace  that  is  in  Lysias’s  writing,  and  then  I 
may  be  bold  to  affirm. 

That  no  man  living  e’er  was  favored  more 
By  sacred  Muse  that  violet  garlands  wore. 

Certain  it  is  that,  of  all  the  commendations  that  were  ever 
given  to  Homer,  this  is  the  truest,  that  he  alone  avoided 
being  irksome  to  his  readers,  as  one  that  was  always  new 
and  still  flourishing,  as  it  were  in  the  prime  of  poetic 
beauty.  And  yet  in  speaking  thus  of  himself, 

I  hate  vain  repetitions,  fondly  made, 

Of  what  has  been  already  plainly  said,  t 

*  From  Sophocles  Frag.  770.  t  Odyss.  XII.  452. 


316 


OF  GARRULITY,  OR  TALKATIVENESS. 


he  shows  how  careful  he  is  to  shun  that  satiety  which,  as 
it  were,  lies  in  wait  for  all  speech,  alluring  the  ear  from 
one  relation  into  another,  and  still  recreating  the  reader 
with  fresh  variety,  in  such  a  manner  that  he  never  thinks 
himself  satisfied.  Whereas  men  that  let  their  tongues 
run  at  random  rend  and  tear  the  ears  with  their  tautolo¬ 
gies,  like  those  that,  after  writing-tahles  have  been  newly 
cleansed  and  wiped,  deface  them  again  with  their  imperti¬ 
nent  scrawls  and  scratches. 

6.  And  therefore  we  would  have  them  to  remember  this 
in  the  first  place,  that,  as  they  who  constrain  men  to  guz¬ 
zle  down  wine  unmixed  with  Avater,  and  to  excess,  are  the 
occasion  that  Avhat  was  bestowed  at  first  on  men  as  a  bless¬ 
ing,  to  excite  mirth  and  rejoice  the  heart,  becomes  a  mis¬ 
chief,  creating  sadness  and  causing  drunkenness ;  so  they 
that  make  an  ill  and  inconsiderate  use  of  speech,  Avhich  is 
the  most  delightful  means  of  human  converse,  render  it 
both  troublesome  and  unsociable,  molesting  those  Avhom 
they  think  to  gratify,  derided  by  those  Avhose  esteem  and 
admiration  they  covet,  and  offensive  to  such  whose  love 
and  friendship  they  seek.  And  therefore,  as  he  may  be 
truly  said  to  be  no  favorite  of  Venus,  who  Avith  the  girdle 
of  the  Goddess,  Avherein  are  all  manner  of  allurements, 
drives  and  chases  aAvay  his  familiar  acquaintance  from  his 
society  ;  so  he  that  vexes  others  Avith  his  loose  and  extrava¬ 
gant  talk  may  be  as  truly  said  to  be  a  rustic,  wanting  alto¬ 
gether  education  and  breeding. 

7.  Noav  then,  among  all  other  passions  and  maladies, 
some  are  dangerous,  others  hateful,  and  others  ridiculous  ; 
but  in  foolish  prating  all  these  inconveniences  con¬ 
cur.  Praters  are  derided  AA^hen  they  make  relations  of 
common  matters ;  they  are  hated  for  bringing  unAvelcome 
tidings  ;  they  are  in  danger  for  divulging  of  secrets. 
Whereas  Anarcharsis,  being  feasted  by  Solon,  Avas  es¬ 
teemed  a  Avise  man,  for  that,  as  he  lay  asleep  after  the 


OF  GARRULITY,  OR  TALKATIVENESS. 


317 


banquet  was  over,  he  was  seen  with  his  left  hand  over  his 
privy  parts,  and  his  right  hand  laid  upon  his  mouth  ;  deem¬ 
ing,  as  indeed  he  rightly  believed,  that  his  tongue  required 
the  stronger  curb.  For  though  it  would  be  a  hard  task  to  . 
reckon  up  how  many  men  have  perished  through  the  vene¬ 
real  intemperance,  yet  I  dare  say  it  would  be  almost  as 
difficult  to  tell  how  many  cities  and  States  have  been  de¬ 
molished  and  totally  subverted  by  the  inconsiderate  blurt¬ 
ing  out  of  a  secret. 

Sylla  besieged  Athens  at  a  time  when  it  was  certain  that 
he  could  not  lie  long  before  the  city,  by  reason  that  other 
affairs  and  troubles  called  him  another  way.  For  on  the 
one  side,  Mithridates  ravaged  Asia ;  on  the  other,  Marius’s 
party  had  made  themselves  masters  of  Rome.  But  it  hap¬ 
pened,  that  certain  old  fellows  being  met  together  in  a 
barber’s  shop,  among  other  discourse,  blabbed  it  out,  that 
the  Heptachalcon  was  ill  guarded,  and  that  the  city  was  in 
great  danger  of  a  surprise  in  that  part.  Which  being 
overheard  and  reported  to  Sylla  by  certain  of  his  spies,  he 
presently  brought  all  his  forces  on  that  side,  and  about 
midnight,  after  a  sharp  assault,  entered  the  city  with  his 
whole  army,  and  it  was  a  thousand  to  one  but  that  he  had 
laid  it  in  ashes.  However,  he  filled  it  with  the  carcasses 
of  the  slain,  and  made  the  Ceramicus  run  with  blood ; 
being  highly  incensed  against  the  Athenians,  more  for  their 
reproachful  language  than  their  military  opposition.  For 
they  had  abused  both  him  and  his  wife  Metella,  getting  up 
upon  the  walls  and  calling  him  “  mulberry  strewed  with 
dust  meal,”  with  many  other  provoking  scoffs  of  the  same 
nature ;  and  merely  for  a  few  words  —  which,  as  Plato 
observes,  are  the  lightest  things  in  the  world  —  they  drew 
upon  their  heads  the  severest  punishment. 

The  tongue  of  one  man  prevented  Rome  from  recovering 
her  freedom  by  the  destruction  of  Nero.  For  there  was 
but  one  night  to  pass  before  Nero  was  to  be  murdered  on 


318 


OF  GARRULITY,  OR  TALKATIVENESS. 


the  morrow,  all  things  being  ready  prepared  and  agreed  on 
for  that  purpose.  .But  in  the  mean  time  it  happened  that 
he  who  had  undertaken  to  execute  the  act,  as  he  was  going 
to  the  theatre,  seeing  one  of  those  poor  creatures  that 
w^ere  bound  and  pinioned,  just  ready  to  be  led  before  Nero, 
and  hearing  the  fellow  bewail  his  hard  fortune,  gathered 
up  close  to  him,  and  whispered  the  poor  fellow  in  the  ear : 
Pray  only,  honest  friend,  said  he,  that  thou  mayest  but 
escape  this  day ;  to-morrow  thou  shalt  give  me  thanks. 
Presently  the  fellow  taking  hold  of  this  enigmatical  speech, 
and  calling  to  mind  the  vulgar  saying,  that  he  is  a  fool 
who  lets  slip  a  bird  in  the  hand  for  a  bird  in  the  bush, 
preferred  the  surer  to  the  juster  way  of  saving  himself, 
and  presently  declared  to  Nero  what  that  man  had  whis¬ 
pered  in  his  ear.  Immediately  the  whisperer  was  laid  hold 
of,  and  hurried  away  to  the  place  of  torture,  where  by 
racking,  searing,  and  scourging  he  was  constrained,  poor 
miserable  creature,  to  confess  that  by  force  which  before 
he  had  discovered  without  any  compulsion  at  all. 

8.  Zeno,  that  he  might  not  be  compelled  by  the  tortures 
of  his  body  to  betray,  against  his  will,  the  secrets  entrusted 
in  his  breast,  bit  off  his  tongue,  and  spit  it  in  the  tyrant’s 
face.  Notorious  also  was  the  example  of  Leaena,  and 
signal  the  reward  which  she  had  for  being  true  to  her  trust 
and  constant  in  her  taciturnity.  She  was  a  courtesan  with 
whom  Harmodius  and  Aristogiton  were  very  familiar ; 
and  for  that  reason  they  had  imparted  to  her  the  great 
hopes  which  they  had  upon  the  success  of  the  conspiracy 
against  the  tyrants,  wherein  they  were  so  deeply  engaged ; 
while  she  on  the  other  side,  having  drunk  freely  of  the 
noble  cup  of  love,  had  been  initiated  into  their  secrets 
through  the  God  of  Love ;  and  she  failed  not  of  her  vow. 
For  the  two  paramours  being  taken  and  put  to  death  after 
they  had  failed  in  their  enterprise,  she  was  also  apprehended 
and  put  to  the  torture,  to  force  out  of  her  a  discovery  of 


OF  GARRULITY,  OR  TALKATIVENESS. 


319 


the  rest  of  the  accomplices  ;  but  all  the  torments  and  ex¬ 
tremities  they  could  exercise  upon  her  body  could  not 
prevail  to  make  her  discover  so  much  as  one  person  ; 
whereby  she  manifested  to  the  world  that  the  two  gentle¬ 
men,  her  friends,  had  done  nothing  misbecoming  their 
descent,  in  having  bestowed  their  affections  upon  such  a 
woman.  For  this  reason- the  Athenians,  as  a  monument 
of  her  virtue,  set  up  a  lioness  (which  the  name  Leaena 
signifies)  in  brass,  without  a  tongue,  just  at  the  entrance 
into  the  Acropolis ;  by  the  stomachful  courage  of  that 
beast  signifying  to  posterity  the  invincible  resolution  of 
the  woman ;  and  by  making  it  without  a  tongue,  denoting 
her  constancy  in  keeping  the  secret  with  which  she  was 
entrusted.  For  never  any  word  spoken  did  so  much  good, 
as  many  locked  up  in  silence.  Thus  at  one  time  or  other 
a  man  may  utter  what  heretofore  has  been  kept  a  secret ; 
but  when  a  secret  is  once  blurted  forth,  it  can  never  be 
recalled ;  for  it  flies  abroad,  and  spreads  in  a  moment  far 
and  near.  And  hence  it  is  that  we  have  men  to  teach  us 
to  speak,  but  the  Gods  are  they  that  teach  us  silence  ; 
silence  being  the  first  thing  commanded  upon  our  first  in¬ 
itiation  into  their  divine  ceremonies  and  sacred  mysteries. 
And  therefore  it  is  that  Homer  makes  Ulysses,  whose  elo¬ 
quence  was  so  charming,  to  be  the  most  silent  of  men  ;  and 
the  same  virtue  he  also  attributes  to  his  son,  to  his  wife, 
and  also  to  his  nurse.  For  thus  you  hear  her  speaking: 

Safe,  as  in  hardened  steel  or  sturdy  oak, 

Within  my  breast  these  secrets  will  I  lock. 

And  Ulysses  himself,  sitting  by  Penelope  before  he  discov¬ 
ered  himself,  is  thus  brought  in  : 

His  weeping  wife  with  pity  lie  beheld, 

Although  not  willing  yet  to  be  revealed. 

He  would  not  move  his  eyes,  but  kept  them  fast. 

Like  horn  or  steel  within  his  eyebrows  placed.* 


*  Odyss.  XIX.  494  and  204. 


320  OF  GAERULITY,  OR  TALKATIVENESS. 

\ 

So  powerfully  possessed  with  continence  were  both  his 
tongue  and  lips  ;  and  having  all  the  rest  of  his  members  so 
obedient  and  subject  to  his  reason,  he  commanded  his  eye 
not  to  weep,  his  tongue  not  to  speak  a  word,  and  his  heart 
neither  to  pant  nor  tremble. 

So  was  his  suffering  heart  confined 
To  give  obedience  to  his  mind  ;  * 

his  reason  penetrating  even  to  those  inward  motions,  and 
subduing  to  itself  the  blood  and  vital  spirits.  Such  were 
many  of  the  rest  of  his  followers.  For  though  they  were 
dragged  and  haled  by  Polyphemus,  and  had  their  heads 
dashed  against  the  ground,  they  would  not  confess  a  word 
concerning  their  lord  and  master  Ulysses,  nor  discover  the 
long  piece  of  wood  that  was  put  in  the  fire  and  prepared 
to  put  out  his  eye ;  but  rather  suffered  themselves  to  be 
devoured  raw  than  to  disclose  any  one  of  their  master  s 
secrets  ;  which  was  an  example  of  fidelity  and  reservedness 
not  to  be  paralleled.  Pittacus  therefore  did  very  well, 
who,  when  the  king  of  Egypt  sent  him  an  oblation-beast, 
and  ordered  him  to  take  out  and  set  apart  the  best  and 
worst  piece  of  it,  pulled  out  the  tongue  and  sent  to  him, 
as  being  the  instrument  of  many  good  things  as  well  as 
the  instrument  of  the  greatest  evils  in  the  world. 

9.  Ino  therefore,  in  Euripides,  frankly  extolling  herself, 

says : 

I  know  both  when  and  where  my  tongue  to  hold. 

And  when  with  safety  to  be  freely  bold.t 

For  they  that  are  brought  up  under  a  truly  generous  and 
royal  education  learn  first  to  be  silent,  and  then  to  talk. 
And  therefore  King  Antigonus,  when  his  son  asked  him 
when  they  should  discamp,  replied.  What !  art  thou  afraid 
of  being  the  only  man  that  shall  not  hear  the  trumpet  ? 
So  loath  was  he  to  trust  him  with  a  secret,  to  whom  he 
Avas  to  leave  his  kingdom  ;  teaching  him  thereby,  when  he 

t  Eurip.  Ino,  Frag.  417. 


*  Odyss.  XX.  23. 


V 


OF  GARRULITY,  OR  TALKATIVENESS.  321 

came  to  command  another  day,  to  be  no  less  wary  and 
sparing  of  his  speech.  Metellus  also,  that  old  soldier, 
being  asked  some  such  question  about  the  intended  march 
of  his  army.  If  I  thought,  said  he,  that  my  shirt  were 
privy  to  this  secret,  I  would  pull  it  off  and  throw  it  into 
the  fire.  Eumenes  also,  when  he  heard  that  Craterus  was 
marching  with  his  forces  against  him,  said  not  a  word  of 
it  to  his  best  friend,  but  gave  out  all  along  that  it  was 
Neoptolemus ;  for  him  his  soldiers  contemned,  but  they 
admired  Craterus’s  fame  and  virtue ;  but  nobody  knew  the 
truth  but  Eumenes  himself.  Thereupon  joining  battle,  the 
victory  fell  to  their  side,  and  they  slew  Craterus,  not  know¬ 
ing  whom  he  was  till  they  found  him  among  the  slain.  So 
cunningly  did  taciturnity  manage  this  combat,  and  conceal 
so  great  an  adversary ;  so  that  the  friends  of  Eumenes 
admired  rather  than  reproved  him  for  not  telling  them 
beforehand.  For  indeed,  should  a  man  be  blamed  in  such 
a  case,  it  is  better  for  him  to  be  accused  after  victory  ob¬ 
tained  by  his  distrust,  than  to  be  obliged  to  blame  others 
after  an  overthrow  because  he  has  been  too  easy  to  impart 
his  secrets. 

10.  Nay,  what  man  is  he  that  dares  take  upon  him  the 
freedom  to  blame  another  for  not  keeping  the  secret  which 
he  himself  has  revealed  to  him'?  For  if  the  secret  ought 
not  to  have  been  divulged,  it  was  ill  done  to  break  it  to 
another ;  but  if,  after  thou  hast  let  it  go  from  thyself,  thou 
wouldst  have  another  keep  it  in,  surely  it  is  a  great  argu¬ 
ment  that  thou  hast  more  confidence  in  another  than  in 
thyself ;  for,  if  he  be  like  thyself,  thou  art  deservedly 
lost ;  if  better,  then  thou  art  miraculously  saved,  as  having 
met  with  a  person  more  faithful  to  thee  than  thou  art  to 
thy  own  interest.  But  thou  wilt  say,  he  is  my  friend. 
Very  good :  yet  this  friend  of  mine  had  another,  in  whom 
he  might  confide  as  much  as  I  did  in  him  ;  and  in  like 
manner  his  friend  another,  to  the  end  of  the  chapter. 

\ 


/ 


322 


OF  GARRULITY,  OR  TALKATIVENESS. 


And  thus  the  secret  gains  ground,  and  spreads  itself  by 
multiplication  of  babbling.  For  as  a  unit  never  exceeds 
its  bounds,  but  always  remains  one,  and  is  therefore  called 
a  unit ;  but  the  next  is  two,  which  contains  the  unlimited 
principle  of  diversity,  —  for  it  straightway  departs  from 
out  of  itself  (as  it  were)  and  by  doubling  turns  to  a  plu- 
i-ality,  —  so  speech  abiding  in  the  first  person’s  thoughts 
may  truly  be  called  a  secret ;  but  being  communicated  to 
another,  it  presently  changes  its  name  into  common  rumor. 
This  is  the  reason  that  Homer  gives  to  words  the  epithet 
of  winged ;  for  he  that  lets  a  bird  go  out  of  his  hand 
does  not  easily  catch  her  again ;  neither  is  it  possible  for  a 
man  to  recall  and  cage  again  in  his  breast  a  word  let  slip 
from  his  mouth  ;  *  for  with  light  wings  it  fetches  many  a 
compass,  and  flutters  about  from  one  quarter  to  another  in 
a  moment.  The  course  of  a  ship  may  well  be  stayed  by 
cables  and  anchors,  which  else  would  spoon  away  befoie  a 
fresh  gale  of  wind  ;  but  there  is  no  fast  riding  or  anchor- 
hold  for  speech,  when  once  let  loose  as  from  a  harbor ; 
but  being  whirled  away  with  a  sonorous  noise  and  loud 
echo,  it  carries  off  and  plunges  the  unwary  babbler  into 
some  fatal  danger. 

For  soon  a  little  spark  of  fire,  let  fly. 

May  kindle  Ida’s  wood,  so  thick  and  high. 

What  one  man  to  his  seeming  friend  lets  go. 

Whole  cities  may  with  ease  enquire  and  know.t 

11.  The  Senate  of  Rome  had  been  debating  among 
themselves  a  certain  piece  of  secrecy  for  several  days, 
which  caused  the  matter  to  be  so  much  the  more  suspected 
and  listened  after.  Whereupon  a  certain  Roman  lady, 
discreet  enough  in  other  things,  but  yet  a  woman,  laid  at 
her  husband  day  and  night,  and  mournfully  importuned 
him  what  the  secret  might  be.  Oaths,  you  may  be  sure, 
she  was  ready  to  make,  and  to  curse  herself  if  ever  she 

t  Eurip.  Ino,  Frag.  415. 


*  See  Euripides,  Frag.  1031. 


OF  GARRULITY,  OR  TALKATIVENESS.  323 

revealed  whatever  he  should  tell ;  nor  was  she  wanting  in 
tears,  and  many  moist  complaints  of  her  being  a  woman 
so  little  to  be  trusted  by  a  husband.  The  Eoman  thus 
beset,  yet  willing  in  some  measure  to  make  trial  of  her 
fidelity  and  convince  her  of  her  folly,  Thou  hast  overcome 
me,  wife,  said  he,  and  now  I’ll  tell  thee  a  most  dreadful 
and  prodigious  thing.  We  were  advertised 'by  the  priests, 
that  a  lark  was  seen  flying  in  the  air,  with  a  golden  helmet 
upon  her  head  and  a  spear  in  one  of  her  claws ;  now  we 
are  consulting  with  the  augurs  or  soothsayers  about  this 
portent,  whether  it  be  good  or  bad.  But  keep  it  to  thy¬ 
self,  for  it  may  be  of  great  concernment  for  the  common¬ 
wealth.  Having  so  said,  he  walked  forth  toward  the 
market-place.  No  sooner  was  he  gone,  but  his  wife 
caught  hold  of  the  first  of  her  maids  that  entered  the 
room,  and  then  striking  her  breast  and  tearing  her  hair. 
Woe  is  me,  said  she,  for  my  poor  husband  and  dearest  coun¬ 
try  !  What  will  become  of  us  ]  —  prompting  the  maid,  as 
if  she  were  desirous  that  she  should  say  to  her.  Why'? 
What  is  the  matter,  mistress'?  Upon  which  she  presently 
unfolded  all  that  her  husband  had  told  her ;  nay,  she  for¬ 
got  not  the  common  burden  with  which  all  twattle-baskets 
conclude  their  stories  ;  But,  hussy,  said  she,  for  your  life, 
be  sure  you  say  not  a  word  of  this  to  any  soul  living.  The 
wench  was  no  sooner  got  out  of  her  mistress’s  sight,  but 
meeting  with  one  of  her  fellow-servants  that  had  little  to 
do,  to  her  she  unbosoms  herself ;  she,  big  with  the  news, 
with  no  less  speed  runs  away  to  her  sweetheart,  who  was 
come  to  give  her  a  visit,  and  without  any  more  to  do  tells 
him  all.  By  this  means  the  story  flew  about  the  market¬ 
place  before  the  first  deviser  of  it  could  get  thither.  Pres¬ 
ently  one  of  his  acquaintance  meeting  him  asked.  Did  ye 
come  straight  from  your  house '?  Without  stop  or  stay, 
replied  the  other.  And  did  ye  hear  nothing'?  says  his 
friend.  Why  *?  quoth  the  other.  Is  there  any  news '?  Oh ! 


324  GAERULTTY,  OR  TALKATIVENESS. 

quotli  his  friend,  a  lark  has  been  seen  flying  in  the  air, 
with  a  golden  helmet  upon  her  head  and  a  spear  in  her 
claAV,  and  the  Senate  is  summoned  to  consult  about  it. 
Upon  which  the  gentleman,  smiling:  God  a  mercy,  wife, 
quoth  he,  for  being  so  nimble  !  One  would  have  thought 
I  might  have  got  into  the  market-place  before  a  story  so 
lately  told  thee  ;  but  I  see  ’twas  not  to  be  done.  There¬ 
upon  meeting  with  some  of  the  senators,  he  soon  delivered 
them  out  of  their  pain.  However,  being  resolved  to  take 
a  slight  revenge  of  his  wife,  making  haste  home.  Wife, 
said  he,  thou  hast  undone  me ;  for  it  is  found  out  that  the 
great  secret  I  told  thee  was  flrst  divulged  out  of  my  house ; 
and  now  must  I  be  banished  from  my  native  country  for 
your  wicked  gaggling  tongue.  At  flrst  his  wife  would 
have  denied  the  matter,  and  put  it  off  from  her  husband 
by  telling  him  there  were  three  hundred  more  besides 
himself  that  heard  the  thing,  and  why  might  not  one  of 
•those  divulge  it  as  well  as  he  ]  But  he  bade  her  never  tell 
him  of  three  hundred  more,  and  told  her  it  was  an  inven¬ 
tion  of  his  own  framing  to  try  her  and  to  avoid  her  impor¬ 
tunity.  Thus  this  E-oman  safely  and  cautiously  made  the 
experiment  of  his  wife’s  ability  to  keep  a  secret ;  as  w^hen 
we  pour  into  a  cracked  and  leaky  vessel,  not  wine  nor  oil, 
but  water  only. 

But  Fulvius,  one  of  Augustus  Caesar’s  minions  and 
favorites,  once  heard  the  emperor  deploring  the  desolation 
of  his  family,  in  regard  his  two  grandchildren  by  his 
daughter  were  both  dead,  and  Postumius,  who  only  re¬ 
mained  alive,  upon  an  accusation  charged  against  him  was 
confined  to  banishment,  so  that  he  was  forced  to  set  up  his 
wife’s  son  to  succeed  him  in  the  empire,  yet  upon  more 
compassionate  thoughts,  signifying  his  determination  to 
recall  Postumius  from  exile.  This  Fulvius  hearing  related 
the  whole  to  his  wife,  and  she  to  Livia.  Livia  sharply 
expostulated  the  matter  with  Caesar  ;  wherefore,  seeing  he 


OF  GAKRULITY,  OR  TALKATIVENESS. 


325 


had  projected  the  thing  so  long  before,  he  did  not  send  for 
his  daughter’s  son  at  fii;^t,  but  exposed  her  to  the  hatred 
and  revenge  of  him  that  he  had  determined  to  be  his  suc¬ 
cessor.  The  next  morning  Fulvius  coming  into  Augustus’s 
presence,  and  saluting  him  with  Hail,  O  Caesar !  Caesar 
retorted  upon  him,  God  send  thee  more  wit,  Fulvius.  He, 
presently  apprehending  the  meaning  of  the  repartee,  made 
haste  home  again ;  and  calling  for  his  wife,  Caesar  under¬ 
stands,  said  he.  that  I  have  discovered  his  secret  counsels, 
and  therefore  I  am  resolved  to  lay  violent  hands  upon  my¬ 
self.  And  justly  too,  said  she,  thou  dost  deserve  to  die, 
since  having  lived  so  long  with  me,  thou  didst  not  know 
the  lavishness,  of  my  tongue,  and  how  unable  I  was  to 
keep  a  secret.  However,  suffer  me  to  die  first.  And  with 
that,  snatching  the  sword  out  of  her  husband’s  hands,  she 
slew  herself  before  his  face. 

12.  Truly  therefore  was  it  said  by  Philippides  the  come 
dian,  who  being  courteously  and  familiarly  asked  by  King 
Lysimachus,  what  he  should  bestow  upon  him  of  all  the 
treasure  that  he  had,  made  answer.  Any  thing,  O  King,  but 
your  secrets. 

But  there  is  another  vice  no  less  mischievous  that  attends 
garrulity,  called  Curiosity.  For  there  are  a  sort  of  people 
that  desire  to  hear  a  great  deal  of  news,  that  they  may 
have  matter  enough  to  twattle  abroad  ;*  and  these  are  the 
most  diligent  in  the  world  to  pry  and  dive  into  the  secrets 
of  others,  that  they  may  enlarge  and  aggravate  their  own 
loquacity  wdth  new  stories  and  fooleries.  And  then  they 
are  like  children,  that  neither  can  endure  to  hold  the  ice  in 
their  hands  nor  will  let  it  go  ;  or  rather  they  may  be  said 
to  lodge  other  men’s  secrets  in  their  bosoms,  like  so  many 
serpents,  which  they  are  not  able  to  keep  there  long,  be¬ 
cause  they  eat  their  way  through.  It  is  said  that  the  fish 
called  the  sea-needle  and  vipers  rive  asunder  and  burst 
themselves  wiien  they  bring  forth  ;  in  like  manner,  secrets. 


326 


OF  GARRULITY,  OR  TALKATIVENESS. 


dropping  from  the  mouths  of  those  that  cannot  contain 
them,  destroy  and  overthrow  the  reyealers.  Seleucus  Cal- 
linicus,  having  lost  his  whole  army  in  a  battle  fought  with 
the  Galatians,  threw  off  his  royal  diadem,  and  flew  away 
full  speed  on  a  horse  with  three  or  four  attendants,  wander¬ 
ing  through  by-roads  and  deserts,  till  at  last  he  began  to 
faint  for  want  of  food.  At  length  coming  to  a  certain 
countryman’s  house,  and  finding  the  owner  himself  within, 
he  asked  him  for  a  little  bread  and  water ;  which  the 
countryman  not  only  readily  fetched  him,  but  what  else  his 
ground  would  afford  he  very  liberally  and  plentifully  set 
before  the  king  and  his  companions,  making  them  all  as 
heartily  welcome  as  it  was  possible  for  him  to  do.  At 
length,  in  the  midst  of  their  cheer,  he  knew  the  king’s 
face.  This  overjoyed  the  man  to  such  a  degree,  —  that  he 
should  have  the  happiness  to  relieve  the  king  in  his  neces¬ 
sity,  —  that  he  was  not  able  to  contain  himself  or  dissem¬ 
ble  his  knowledge  of  the  king ;  but  after  he  had  rode  a 
little  way  with  him  and  came  to  take  his  leave ;  Farewell, 
King  Seleucus,  said  the  poor  man.  But  then  the  king,  < 

stretching  forth  his  right  hand  and  pulling  his  host  to  his  ] 

breast,  as  if  he  had  intended  to  kiss  him,  nodded  to  one  i 

of  his  followers  to  strike  off  the  countryman’s  head  with  ’ 

his  sword. 

E’en  while  he  speaks,  his  head  rolls  in  the  dust.* 

Whereas  if  he  could  but  have  held  his  peace  and  mastered 
his  tongue  for  a  little  while,  till  the  king,  as  afterwards  he 
did,  had  recovered  his  good  fortune  and  grandeur,  he  had  ^ 
been  doubtless  better  rewarded  for  his  silence  than  he  was 
for  his  hospitality.  And  yet  this  poor  man  had  some 
colorable  excuse  for  letting  his  tongue  at  liberty  ;  that  is  to 
say,  his  hopes,  and  the  kindness  he  had  done  the  king.  ^ 
13.  But  most  of  your  twattlers,  without  any  cause  or  .  i 
pretence  at  all,  destroy  themselves ;  as  it  happened  when  j 

*  II.  X.  457.  -  I 


OF  GAKRULITY,  OR  TALKATIVENESS. 


327 


certain  fellows  began  to  talk  pretty  freely  in  a  barber’s 

•  _ 

shop  concerning  the  tyranny  of  Dionysius,  that  it  was  as 

secure  and  inexpugnable  as  a  rock  of  adamant :  I  wonder, 

quoth  the  barber,  laughing,  that  you  should  talk  these 

things  before  me  concerning  Dionysius,  whose  throat  is 

almost  every 

dom  of  the  barber  being  related  to  the  tyrant,  he  caused 
him  forthwith  to  be  crucified.  And  indeed  the  generality 
of  barbers  are  a  prating  generation  of  men ;  in  regard  the 
most  loquacious  praters  usually  resort  to  their  shops,  and 
there  sit  prattling ;  from  whence  the  barbers  also  learn  an 
ill  habit  of  twattling.  Pleasant  therefore  was  the  answer 
of  Archetaus  to  the  barber  who,  after  he  had  cast  the  linen 
toilet  about  his  shoulders,  put  this  question  to  him.  How 
shall  I  trim  your  majesty ;  In  silence,  quoth  the  king.  It 
was  a  barber  that  first  reported  the  news  of  the  great  over¬ 
throw  which  the  Athenians  received  in  Sicily ;  for  being 
the  first  that  heard  the  relation  of  it  in  the  Piraeus,  from  a 
servant  of  one  of  those  who  had  escaped  out  of  the  battle, 
he  presently  left  his  shop  at  sixes  and  sevens,  and  flew  into 
the  city,  as  fast  as  his  heels  could  carry  him. 

For  fear  some  other  should  the  honor  claim 

Of  being  first,  when  he  but  second  came.* 

Now  you  may  be  sure  that  the  first  spreader  of  this  news 
caused  a  great  hubbub  in  the  city,  insomuch  that  the  peo¬ 
ple,  thronging  together  in  the  market-place,  made  diligent 
enquiry  for  the  first  divulger.  Presently  the  barber  was 
brought  by. head  and  shoulders  to  the  crowd,  and  examined  ; 
but  he  could  give  no  account  of  his  author,  only  one  that 
he  ndver  saw  or  knew  in  his  life  before  had  told  him  the 
news.  Which  so  incensed  the  multitude,  that  they  im¬ 
mediately  cried  out,  To  the  rack  with  the  traitor,  tie  the 
lying  rascal  neck  and  heels  together.  This  is  a  mere  story 
of  the  rogue’s  own  making.  Who  heard  it?  Who  gave 

*  II.  XXII.  207. 


day  under  my  razor.  Which  scurrilous  free- 


328 


OF  GARRULITY,  OR  TALKATIVENESS. 


any  credit  to  it  beside  himself'?  At  the  same  instant  the 
wheel  was  brought  out,  and  the  poor  barber  stretched  upon 
it,  —  not  to  his  ease,  you  mav  be  sure.  And  then  it  was, 
and  not  before,  that  the  news  of  the  defeat  was  confirmed 
by  several  that  had  made  a  hard  shift  to  escape  the  slaugh¬ 
ter.  Upon  which  the  people  scattered  every  one  to  his 
own  home,  to  make  their  private  lamentation  for  their  par¬ 
ticular  losses,  leaving  the  unfortunate  barber  bound  fast  to 
the  wheel ;  in  which  condition  he  continued  till  late  in  the 
evening,  before  he  was  let  loose.  Nor  would  this  reform 
the  impertinent  fool ;  for  no  sooner  was  he  at  liberty  but 
he  would  needs  be  enquiring  of  the  executioner,  what 
news,  and  what  was  reported  of  the  manner  of  Nicias  the 
general’s  being  slain.  So  inexpugnable  and  incorrigible  a 
vice  is  loquacity,  gotten  by  custom  and  ill  habit,  that  they 
cannot  leave  it  off,  though  they  were  sure  to  be  hanged. 

14.  And  yet  we  find  that  people  have  the  same  antipa¬ 
thy  against  divulgers  of  bad  tidings,  as  they  that  drink 
bitter  and  distasteful  potions  have  against  the  cups  where¬ 
in  they  drank  them.  Elegant  therefore  is  the  dispute  in 
Sophocles  between  the  messenger  and  Creon : 

Messenger.  By  what  I  tell  and  what  you  hear. 

Do  I  offend  your  heart  or  ear  ? 

Creon.  Why  so  inquisitive  to  sound 

My  grief,  and  search  the  painful  wound  % 

Messenger,  My  news  afflicts  thy  ears,  I  find  , 

But  ’tis  the  fact  torments  thy  mind.* 

Thus  they  that  bring  us  bad  tidings  are  as  bad  as  they 
who  are  the  authors  of  our  misery ;  and  yet  there  is 
no  restraining  or  correcting  the  tongue  that  will  run  at 
random. 

It  happened  that  the  temple  of  Minerva  in  Lacedaemon 
called  Chalcioecus  was  robbed,  and  nothing  but  an  earthen 
pitcher  left  behind  ;  which  caused  a  great  concourse  of 
people,  where  every  one  spent  his  verdict  about  the  empty 

*  Soph.  Antigone,  317. 


OF  GARRULITY,  OR  TALKATIVENESS. 


329 


pitcher.  Gentlemen,  says  one,  pray  give  me  leave  to  tell 
ye  my  opinion  concerning  this  pitcher.  I  am  apt  to  be¬ 
lieve,  that  these  sacrilegious  villains,  before  they  ventured 
upon  so  dangerous  an  attempt,  drank  each  of  them  a 
draught  of  hemlock  juice,  and  then  brought  wine  along 
with  them  in  this  pitcher ;  to  the  end  that,  if  it  were  their 
good  hap  to  escape  without  being  apprehended,  they  might 
soon  dissolve  and  extinguish  the  strength  and  vigor  of  the 
.venom  by  the  force  of  the  wine  un mixed  and  pure ;  but  if 
they  should  be  surprised  and  taken  in  the  fact,  that  then 
they  might  die  without  feeling  any  pain  under  the  torture 
of  the  rack.  Having  thus  said,  the  people,  observing  so 
much  forecast  and  contrivance  in  the  thing,  would  not  be 
persuaded  that  any  man  could  have  such  ready  thoughts 
upon  a  bare  conjecture,  but  that  he  must  know  it  to  be  so. 
Thereupon,  immediately  gathering  about  him,  one  asked 
who  he  was ;  another,  who  knew  him  ;  a  third,  how  he 
came  to  be  so  much  a  philosopher.  And  at  length,  they 
did  so  sift  and  canvass  and 'fetch  him  about,  that  the 
fellow  confessed  himself  to  be  one  of  those  that  com¬ 
mitted  the  sacrilege. 

And  were  not  they  who  murdered  the  poet  Ibycus  dis¬ 
covered  after  the  same  manner,  as  they  sat  in  the  theatre  ? 
For  as  they  were  sitting  there  under  the  open  sky  to  be¬ 
hold  the  public  pastimes,  they  observed  a  flock  of  cranes 
flying  over  their  heads  ;  upon  which  they  whispered  mer¬ 
rily  one  to  another.  Look,  yonder  are  the  revengers  of 
Ibycus’s  death.  Which  words  being  overheard  by  some 
that  sat  next  them, —  in  regard  that  Ibycus  had  been  long 
missing  but  could  not  be  found,  though  diligent  search  had 
been  made  after  him,  —  they  presently  gave  information 
of  what  they  had  heard  to  the  magistrates.  By  whom 
being  examined  and  convicted,  they  suffered  condign  pun¬ 
ishment,  though  not  betrayed  by  the  cranes,  but  by  the 
incontinency  of  their  own  tongues,  and  by  an  avenging 


330 


or  GARRULITY,  OR  TALKATIVENESS. 


Erinnys  hovering  over  their  heads  and  constraining  them 
to  confess  the  murder.  For  as  in  the  body,  wounded  and 
diseased  members  draw  to  themselves  the  vicious  humors 
of  the  neighboring  parts ;  in  like  manner,  the  unruly 
tongues  of  babblers,  infested  (as  it  were)  with  inflamma¬ 
tions  where  a  sort  of  feverish  pulses  continually  lie  beat¬ 
ing,  will  be  always  drawing  to  themselves  something  of 
the  secret  and  private  concerns  of  other  men.  And  there¬ 
fore  the  tongue  ought  to  be  environed  with  reason,  as  with 
a  rampart  perpetually  lying  before  it,  like  a  mound,  to 
stop  the  overflowing  and  slippery  exuberance  of  imperti¬ 
nent  talk ;  that  we  may  not  seem  to  be  more  silly  than 
geese,  which,  when  they  take  their  flight  out  of  Cilicia 
over  the  mountain  Taurus,  which  abounds  with  eagles,  are 
reported  to  carry  every  one  a  good  big  stone  in  their  bills, 
instead  of  a  bridle  or  barricado,  to  restrain  their  gaggling. 
By  which  means  they  cross  those  hideous  forests  in  the 
night-time  undiscovered. 

15.  Now  then  if  the  question  should  be  asked.  Which 
are  the  worst  and  most  pernicious  sort  of  people  ?  I  do  not 
believe  there  is  any  man  that  would  omit  to  name  a  traitor. 
By  treason  it  was  that  Euthycrates  covered  the  uppermost 
storv  of  his  house  with  Macedonian  timber,  according  to 
the  report  of  Demosthenes ;  that  Philocrates,  having  re¬ 
ceived  a  good  sum  of  money,  spent  it  upon  whores  and 
fish ;  and  that  Euphorbus  and  Philagrus,  who  betrayed 
Eretria,  were  so  well  rewarded  by  the  king  with  ample 
nossessions.  But  a  prattler  is  a  sort  of  traitor  that  no 
man  needs  to  hire,  for  that  he  offers  himself  officiously 
and  of  his  own  accord.  Nor  does  he  betray  to  the  enemy 
either  horse  or  walls  ;  but  whatever  he  knows  of  public 
01  private  concerns  requiring  the  greatest  secrecy,  that  he 
discloses,  whether  it  be  in  courts  of  judicature,  in  con¬ 
spiracies,  or  management  of  state  affairs,  ’tis  all  one  ;  he 
expects  not  so  much  as  the  reward  of  being  thanked  for 


OF  GARRULITY,  OR  TALKATIVENESS. 


331 


his  pains ;  nay,  rather  he  will  return  thanks  to  them  that 
give  him  audience.  And  therefore  what  was  said  upon  a 
certain  spendthrift  that  rashly  and  without  any  discretion 
wasted  his  own  estate  by  his  lavish  prodigality  to  others, 

Thou  art  not  liberal ;  ’tis  a  disease 
Of  vainly  giving,  which  does  thee  possess  ; 

^Tis  all  to  please  thyself,  what  thou  dost  give,* 

may  well  be  retorted  upon  a  common  prattler : 

Thou  art  no  friend,  nor  dost  to  me  impart. 

For  friendship’s  sake,  the  secrets  of  thy  heart ; 

But  as  thy  tongue  has  neither  bolt  nor  lock, 

'Tis  thy  disease,  that  thou  delight’st  to  talk. 

16.  Nor  would  I  have  the  reader  think  that  what  has 
hitherto  been  said  has  been  discoursed  so  much  to  blame  as 
to  cure  that  vicious  and  infectious  malady  of  loquaciousness. 
For  though  we  surmount  and  vanquish  the  vices  of  the  mind 
by  judgment  and  exercise,  yet  must  the  judgment  precede. 
For  no  man  will  accustom  himself  to  avoid  and,  as  it  were, 
to  extirpate  out  of  his  soul  those  vices,  unless  he  first 
abominate  them.  Nor  can  we  ever  detest  those  evil  habits 
of  the  mind  as  we  ought  to  do,  but  when  we  rightly  judge 
by  reason’s  light  of  the  prejudice  they  do  us,  and  the  igno¬ 
miny  we  sustain  thereby.  For  example,  we  consider  and 
find  that  these  profuse  babblers,  desirous  of  being  be¬ 
loved,  are  universally  hated  ;  while  they  study  to  gratify, 
they  become  troublesome  ;  while  they  seek  to  be  admired, 
they  are  derided.  If  they  aim  at  profit,  they  lose  all  their 
labor  ;  in  short,  they  injure  their  friends,  advantage  their 
enemies,  and  undo  themselves.  And  therefore  the  first 
remedy  and  cure  for  this  spreading  malady  will  be  this,  to 
reckon  up  all  the  shameful  infamies  and  disasters  that 
attend  it. 

17.  The  second  remedy  is  to  take  into  serious  considi  r- 
ation  the  practice  of  the  opposite  virtue,  by  always  hearing, 
remembering,  and  having  ready  at  hand  the  due  praises 

,  *  From  Epicharmus. 


332  OF  GAERULITY-,  OR  TALKATIVENESS. 

and  encomiums  of  reservedness  and  taciturnity,  together 
with  the  majesty,  sanctimony,  and  mysterious  profoundness 
of  silence.  Let  them  consider  how  much  more  beloved,  how 
much  more  admired,  how  far  they  are  reputed  to  excel  in 
prudence,  who  deliver  their  minds  in  few  words,  roundly 
and  sententiously,  and  contract  a  great  deal  of  sense  within 
a  small  compass  of  speech,  than  such  as  fly  out  into  vol¬ 
uminous  language,  and  suffer  their  tongues  to  run  before 
their  wdt.  The  former  are  those  whom  Plato  so  much 
praises,  and  likens  unto  skilful  archers,  darting  forth  their 
sentences  thick  and  close,  as  it  were  crisped  and  curled 
one  within  another.  To  this  same  shrewdness  of  expres¬ 
sion  Lycurgus  accustomed  his  fellow^-citizens  from  their 
childhood  by  the  exercise  of  silence,  contracting  and  thick¬ 
ening  their  discourse  into  a  compendious  delivery.  For  as 
the  Celtiberians  make  steel  of  iron  by  burying  it  in  the 
ground,  thereby  to  refine  it  from  the  gross  and  earthy  part, 
so  the  Laconic  way  of  speech  has  nothing  of  bark  upon  it, 
but  by  cutting  off  all  superfluity  of  words,  it  becomes  steeled 
and  sharpened  to  pierce  the  understanding  of  the  hearers. 
So  their  consciousness  of  language,  so  ready  to  turn  the 
edge  to  all  manner  of  questions,  became  natural  by  their 
extraordinary  practice  of  silence.  And  therefore  it  wmuld 
be  very  expedient  for  persons  so  much  given  to  talk,  always 
to  have  before  their  eyes  the  short  and  pithy  sayings  of 
those  people,  were  it  only  to  let  them  see  the  force  and 
gravity  which  they  contain.  For  example  :  The  Lacedae¬ 
monians  to  Philip  ;  Dionysius  in  Corinth.  And  when 
Philip  wrote  thus  to  the  Spartans :  If  once  I  enter  into 
your  territories,  I  will  destroy  ye  all,  never  to  rise  again ; 
they  answered  him  with  the  single  wmrd,  If.  To  King 
Demetrius  exclaiming  in  a  great  rage,  What !  have  the 
Spartans  sent  me  but  one  ambassador the  ambassador 
nothing  terrified  replied.  Yes  ;  one  to  one.  Certainly  they 
that  spoke  short  and  concisely  were  much  admired  by  the 


OF  GAFRULITY,  OR  TALKATIVENESS. 


333 


ancients.  Therefore  the  Amphictyons  gave  order,  not  that 
the  Iliad  or  the  Odyssey  or  Pindar’s  paeans  should  be 
written  upon  Pythian  Apollo’s  temple  ;  but  Know  thy¬ 
self;  Nothing  too  much;  Give  sureties,  and  mischief  is  at 
hand.  So  much  did  they  admire  conciseness  of  speech, 
comprehending  full  sense  in  so  much  brevity,  made  solid 
as  it  were  by  the  force  of  a  hammer.  Does  not  the  Deity 
himself  study  compendious  utterance  in  the  delivery  of  his 
oracles  ?  Is  he  not  therefore  called  Loxias,'^  because  he 
avoids  rather  loquacity  than  obscurity  ]  Are  not  they  that 
signify  their  meaning  by  certain  signs,  Avithout  words,  in 
great  admiration  and  highly  applauded  ?  Thus  Heraclitus, 
being  desired  by  his  felloAV-citizens  to  give  them  his  opin¬ 
ion  concerning  Concord,  ascended  the  public  pulpit,  and 
taking  a  cup  of  cold  water  into  his  hand,  first  sprinkled  it 
with  a  little  flour,  then  stirring  it  Avith  a  sprig  of  penny¬ 
royal,  drank  it  off,  and  so  came  down  again ;  intimating  there¬ 
by,  that  if  men  Avould  but  be  contented  with  Avhat  Avas  next 
at  hand,  Avithout  longing  after  dainties  and  superfluities,  it 
would  be  an  easy  thing  for  cities  to  live  in  peace  and  con¬ 
cord  one  Avith  another. 

Scilurus,  king  of  the  Scythians,  left  fourscore  sons  be¬ 
hind  him  ;  Avho,  when  he  found  the  hour  of  death  approach¬ 
ing,  ordered  them  to  bring  him  a  bundle  of  slnall  javelins, 
and  then  commanded  every  one  singly  to  try  Avhether  he 
could  break  the  bundle,  as  it  Avas,  tied  up  altogether ;  Avhich 
Avhen  they  told  him  it  Avas  impossible  for  them  to  do,  he 
dreAV  out  the  javelins  one  by  one,  and  brake  them  all  him¬ 
self  Avith  ease  ;  thereby  declaring  that,  so  long  as  they  kept 
together  united  and  in  concord,  their  force  Avould  be  in¬ 
vincible,  but  that  by  disunion  and  discord  they  Avould 
enfeeble  each  other,  and  render  their  dominion  of  small 
continuance. 

18.  He  then,  that  by  often  repeating  and  reflection  shall 

*  The  name  Loxias  is  usually  derived  from  indirect.  (G.) 


334 


OF  GARRULITY,  OR  TALKATIVENESS. 


enure  himself  to  such  precedents  as  these,  may  in  time  per¬ 
haps  be  more  delighted  with  these  short  and  conclusive 
apophthegms  than  with  the  exorbitances  of  loose  and  lav¬ 
ish  discourse.  For  my  own  part,  I  must  acknowledge  that 
I  am  not  a  little  ashamed  of  myself,  when  I  call  to  mind  that 
same  domestic  servant  of  whom  I  am  now  going  to  speak, 
and  consider  how  great  a  thing  it  is  to  advise  before  a  man 
speaks,  and  then  to  be  able  to  maintain  and  stick  to  what 
he  has  resolved  upon. 

Pupius  Piso,  the  rhetorician,  being  unwilling  to  be  dis¬ 
turbed  with  much  talk,  gave  orders  to  his  servants  to  answer 
to  such  questions  only  as  he  should  ask  them,  and  say  no 
more.  Then  having  a  design  to  give  an  entertainment  to 
Clodius,  at  that  time  magistrate,  he  ordered  him  to  be  in- . 
vited,  and  provided  a  splendid  banquet  for  him,  as  in  all  prob¬ 
ability  he  could  do  no  less.  At  the  time  appointed  several 
other  guests  appeared,  only  they  waited  for  Clodius’s  coming, 
who  tarried  much  longer  than  was  expected ;  so  that  Piso 
sent  his  servant  several  times  to  him,  to  know  whether  he 
would  be  pleased  to  come  to  supper  or  no.  Now  when  it 
grew  Idte  and  Piso  despaired  of  his  coming.  What !  said  he 
to  his  servant,  did  you  call  him  ?  Yes,  replied  the  servant. 
Why  then  does  he  not  come  away  I  Because  he  told  me 
he  would  not  come.  Why  did  you  not  tell  me  so  before  ? 
Because,  sir,  you  never  asked  me  the  question.  This  was  a 
Poman  servant.  But  an  Athenian  servant,  while  he  is 
digging  and  delving,  will  give  his  master  an  account  of  the 
articles  and  capitulations  in  a  treaty  of  peace.  So  strangely 
does  custom  prevail  in  all  things,  of  which  let  us  now  dis¬ 
course. 

19.  For  there  is  no  curb  or  bridle  that  can  tame  or  re¬ 
strain  a  libertine  tongue ;  only  custom  must  vanquish  that 
disease.  First  therefore,  when  there  are  many  questions 
propounded  in  the  company  where  thou  art,  accustom  thy- 


OF  GARRULITY,  OR  TALKATIVENESS. 


335 


self  to  silence  till  all  the  rest  have  refused  to  give  an 
answer.  For,  as  Sophocles  observes, 

Although  in  racing  swiftness  is  required, 

In  counselling  there’s  no  such  haste  desired ; 

no  more  do  speech  and  answer  aim  at  the  same  mark  with 
running.  For  it  is  the  business  of  a  racer  to  get  the 
start  of  him  that  contends  with  him ;  but  if  another  man 
gives  a  sufficient  answer,  there  needs  no  more  than  to  com¬ 
mend  and  approve  what  he  says,  and  so  gain  the  reputation 
of  a  candid  person.  If  not,  then  to  tell  wherein  the  other 
failed  and  to  supply  the  defect  will  neither  be  unseasonable 
nor  a  thing  that  can  justly  merit  distaste.  But  above  'all 
things,  let  us  take  special  heed,  when  another  is  asked  a 
question,  that  we  do  not  chop  in  to  prevent  his  returning 
an  answer.  And  perhaps  it  is  as  little  commendable,  when 
a  question  is  asked  of  another,  to  put  him  by,  and  under 
take  the  solution  of  what  is  demanded  ourselves.  For 
thereby  we  seem  to  intimate  that  the  person  to  whom  the 
question  was  put  was  not  able  to  resolve  it,  and  that  the 
propounder  had  not  discretion  sufficient  to  know  of  whom 
to  ask  it.  Besides,  such  a  malapert  forwardness  in  an¬ 
swering  is  not  only  indecent,  but  injurious  and  affrontive. 
For  he  that  prevents  the  person  to  whom  the  question  is 
put  in  returning  his  answer,  would  in  effect  insinuate  a 
What  need  had  you  to  ask  of  him  1  —  What  can  he  say  to 
it  ]  —  When  I  am  in  presence,  no  man  ought  to  be  asked 
those  questions  but  myself.  And  yet  many  times  we  put 
questions  to  some  people,  not  for  want  of  an  answer,  but 
only  to  minister  occasion  of  discourse  to  provoke  them  to 
familiarity,  and  to  have  the  pleasure  of  their  wit  and  con¬ 
versation,  as  Socrates  was  wont  to  challenge  Theaetetus 
and  Charmides.  Therefore  to  prevent  another  in  returning 
his  answers,  to  abstract  his  ears,  and  draw  off  his  cogita¬ 
tions  from  another  to  himself,  is  the  same  thing  as  to  run 
and  salute  a  man  who  designs  to  be  saluted  by  somebody 


336 


OF  GAHRULITY,  OR  TALKATIVENESS. 


else,  or  to  divert  his  eyes  upon  ourselves  which  were  al¬ 
ready  fixed  upon  another ;  considering  that  if  he  to  whom 

the  question  is  put  refuse  to  return  an  answer,  it  is  but 

% 

decent  for  a  man  to  contain  himself,  and  by  an  answer 
accommodate  to  the  will  of  the  propounder,  modestly  and 
respectfully  to  put  in,  as  if  it  had  been  at  the  request  or 
in  the  behalf  of  the  other.  For  they  that  are  asked  a 
question,  if  they  fail  in  their  answer,  are  justly  to  be  par¬ 
doned  ;  but  he  that  voluntarily  presumes  to  answer  for 
another  gives  distaste,  let  his  answer  be  never  so  rational ; 
but  if  he  mistake,  he  is  derided  by  all  the  company. 

20.  The  second  point  of  exercise,  in  reference  to  our 
own  answering  of  questions,  wherein  a  man  that  is  given 
to  talk  ought  to  be  extremely  careful,  is  first  of  all  not  to 
he  over-hasty  in  his  answers  to  such  as  provoke  him  to 
talk  on  purpose  to  make  themselves  merry  and  to  put  an 
affront  upon  him.  For  some  there  are  who,  not  out  of 
any  desire  to  be  satisfied,  but  merely  to  pass  away  the 
time,  study  certain  questions,  and  then  propound  them  to 
persons  which  they  know  love  to  multiply  words,  on  pur¬ 
pose  to  make  themselves  sport.  Such  men  therefore  ought 
to  take  heed  how  they  run  headlong  and  leap  into  dis¬ 
course,  as  if  they  were  glad  of  the  occasion,  and  to  con¬ 
sider  the  behavior  of  the  propounder  and  the  benefit  and 
usefulness  of  the  question.  When  we  find  that  the  pro¬ 
pounder  is  really  desirous  to  be  informed,  it  is  convenient 
then  for  a  man  to  bethink  himself  awhile,  and  make  some 
pause  between  the  question  and  the  answer ;  to  the  end 
that  the  proposer,  if  he  pleases  to  make  any  additions  to 
his  proposal,  may  have  time  to  do  it,  and  himself  a  conven¬ 
ient  space  to  consider  what  answer  to  make,  for  fear  of 
running  at  random  and  stifling  the  question  before  it  be 
fully  propounded,  or  of  giving  one  answer  for  another  for 
want  of  considering  what  he  ought  to  say,  —  w’hich  is  the 
efi'ect  of  an  over-hasty  zeal  to  be  talking.  True  it  is, 


OF  GAERULITY,  OR  TALKATIVENESS. 


337 


indeed,  that  the  Pythian  priestess  was  wont  to  give  her 
oracular  answers  at  the  very  instant,  and  sometimes  before 
the  q[uestion  Avas  propounded.  For  that  the  Deity  whom 
she  serves 

Both  understands  the  mute  that  cannot  speak, 

And  hears  the  silent  e’er  his  mind  he  break.* 

But  it  behooves  a  man  that  would  return  a  pertinent  an¬ 
swer,  to  stay  till  he  rightly  apprehend  the  sense  and  under¬ 
stand  the  intent  of  him  that  propounds  the  question,  lest 
he  may  happen  to  make  good  the  proverb, 

A  rake  we  called  for ;  they  refused  a  bowl. 

Besides,  Ave  must  subdue  this  inordinate  and  insatiate  greed¬ 
iness  of  having  all  the  talk,  that  it  may  not  seem  as  if  we 
had  some  old  flux  of  humors  impostumated  about  the 
tongue,  Avhich  we  Avere  Avilling  to  have  lanced  and  let 
out  by  a  question.  Socrates  therefore,  though  never  so 
thirsty  after  violent  exercise,  never  Avould  alloAV  himself  the 
liberty  to  drink,  till  he  had  draAvn'one  bucket  of  Avater 
and  poured  it  out  upon  the  ground ;  to  the  end  he  might 
accustom  his  sensual  appetite  to  attend  reason  s  appoint¬ 
ment. 

21;  Noav  therefore  Ave  come  to  understand  that  there 
are  three  sorts  of  ansAvers  to  questions,  the  necessary,  the 
polite,  and  the  superfluous.  For  exauiple,  if  a  man  should 
ask  Avhether  Socrates  is  Avithin,  the  other,  if  he  Avere  in  an 
ill-humor  or  not  disposed  to  make  many  Avords,  Avould 
ansAver,  Not  Avithin  ;  or  if  he  intended  to  be  more  Laconic, 
he  Avould  cut  off  “  Avithin,”  and  reply  briefly.  No.  Thus 
the  Lacedaemonians,  Avhen  Philip  sent  them  an  epistle,  to 
knoAV  Avhether  or  not  they  Avould  admit  him  into  their 
city,  Amuchsafed  him  no  other  ansAver  than  only  No,  fairly 
Avritten  in  large  letters  upon  a  sheet  of  paper.  Another 
that  Avould  ansAver  more  courteously  would  say :  Pie  is  not 
within;  he  is  gone  among  the  bankers;  and  perhaps  he 


*  See  Herod.  I.  47. 


338 


OF  GARRULITY,  OR  TALKATIVENESS. 


would  add,  Where  he  expects  some  friends.  But  a  super¬ 
fluous  prater,  if  he  chance  to  have  read  Antimachus  of 
Colophon,  would  reply :  He  is  not  within ;  but  is  gone 
among  the  bankers,  in  expectation  to  meet  certain  Ionian 
friends,  who  are  recommended  to  him  in  a  letter  from  A\- 
cibiades,  who  lives  at  Miletus  with  Tissaphernes,  one  of 
the  great  king  of  Persia’s  lieutenant-generals,  who  for¬ 
merly  assisted  the  Lacedaemonians,  but  is  now,  by  the 
solicitation  of  Alcibiades,  in  league  with  the  Athenians ; 
for  Alcibiades,  being  desirous  to  return  to  his  own  country, 
has  prevailed  with  Tissaphernes  to  change  his  mind  and 
join  with  the  Athenians.  And  thus  perhaps  you  shall  have 
him  run  on  and  repeat  the  whole  eighth  book  of  Thu¬ 
cydides,  and  overwhelm  a  man  with  his  impertinent 
discourse,  till  he  has  taken  Miletus,  and  banished  Alci¬ 
biades  a  second  time.  Herein  therefore  ought  a  man 
chiefly  to  restrain  the  profuseness  of  his  language,  by 
following  the  footsteps  of  the  question,  and  circumscribing 
the  answer,  as  it  were,  within  a  circle  proportionable  to 
the  benefit  which  ‘the  propounder  proposes  to  make  of 
his  question.  It  is  reported  of  Carneades,  that  before  he 
was  well  known  in  the  world,  while  he  was  disputing  in 
the  Gymnasium,  the  president  of  the  place  sent  him  an 
admonition  to  moderate  his  voice  (for  he  naturally  spoke 
very  deep  and  loud) ;  in  answer  to  which  he  desired  the 
president  to  send  him  a  gauge  for  his  voice,  when  the  pres¬ 
ident  not  improperly  made  answer :  Let  that  be  the  person 
who  disputes  with  thee.  In  like  manner,  the  intent  of 
the  propounder  ought  to  be  the  rule  and  measure  of  the 
answer. 

22.  Moreover,  as  Socrates  was  wont  to  say,  that  those 
meats  were  chieflv  to  be  abstained  from  which  allured  men 
to  eat  when  they  were  not  a -hungry,  and  those  drinks  to 
be  refrained  that  invited  men  to  drink  when  they  were  not 
a-dry ;  so  it  would  behoove  a  man  that  is  lavish  of  his 


OF  GARRULITY,  OR  TALKATIVENESS. 


339 


tongue,  to  be  afraid  of  those  discourses  and  themes  where¬ 
in  he  most  delights  and  makes  it  his  business  to  be  most 
prolix,  and  whenever  he  perceives  them  flowing  in  upon 
him,' to  resist  them  to  the  utmost  of  his  power.  For  ex¬ 
ample,  your  martial  men  are  always  talking  of  sieges  and 
battles,  and  the  great  poet  often  introduces  Nestor  boasting 
of  his  own  achievements  and  feats  of  arms.  The  same 
disease  is  incident  to  noted  pleaders  at  the  bar,  and  accom¬ 
panies  such  as  have  unexpectedly  risen  to  be  the  favorites 
of  great  princes.  For  such  will  be  always  up  with  their 
stories,  —  how  they  were  introduced  at  first,  how  they 
ascended  by  degrees,  how  they  got  the  better  in  such  a 
case,  what  arguments  they  used  in  such  a  case,  and  lastly 
how  they  were  hummed  up  and  applauded  in  court.  For 
to  say  truth,  gladness  and  joy  are  much  more  loquacious 
than  the  sleeplessness  so  often  feigned  in  their  comedies, 
rousing  up  and  still  refreshing  itself  with  new  relations ; 
and  therefore  they  are  prone  to  fall  into  such  stories  upon 
the  least  occasion  given.  For  not  only 

Where  the  body  most  is  pained, 

There  the  patient  lays  his  hand  ; 

but  pleasure  also  has  a  voice  within  itself,  and  leads  the 
tongue  about  to  be  a  support  to  the  memory.  So  lovers 
spend  the  greatest  part  of  their  time  in  songs  and  sonnets, 
to  refresh  their  memories  with  the  representations  of  their 
mistresses  ;  concerning  which  amours  of  theirs,  when  com¬ 
panions  are  wanting,  they  frequently  discourse  with  things 
that  are  void  of  life.  Thus, 

0  dearest  bed,  whereon  we  wont  to  rest ; 

and  again, 

O  blessed  lamp  divine,  —  for  surely  thee 
Bacchis  believes  some  mighty  Deity,  — 

Surely  the  greatest  of  the  Gods  thou  art, 

If  she  so  wills  who  does  possess  my  heart. 

And  indeed  it  may  well  be  said,  that  a  loose-tongued  fel¬ 
low  is  no  more,  in  respect  of  his  discourse,  than  a  white 


340 


OF  GARRULITY,  OR  TALKATIVENESS. 


line  struck  with  chalk  upon  white  marble.  For  in  regard 
there  are  several  subjects  of  discourse,  and  many  men  are 
more  subject  to  some  than  to  others,  it  behooves  every 
one  to  be  on  his  guard  especially  against  these,  and  to ‘Sup¬ 
press  them  in  such  a  manner  that  the  delight  which  they 
take  therein  may  not  decoy  them  into  their  beloved  pro¬ 
lixity  and  profuseness  of  words.  The  same  inclination  to 
overshoot  themselves  in  prattling  appears  in  such  as  are 
prone  to  that  kind  of  discourses  wherein  they  suppose 
themselves  to  excel  others,  either  in  habit  or  experience. 
For  such  a  one,  being  as  well  a  lover  of  himself  as  am¬ 
bitious  of  glory, 

The  cliiefest  part  of  all  the  day  doth  spend, 

Himself  to  pass  and  others  to  transcend.* 

For  example,  he  that  reads  much  endeavors  to  excel  in 
history  ;  the  grammarian,  in  the  artificial  couching  of 
words ;  the  traveller  is  full  of  his  geography.  But  all 
these  surplusages  are  to  be  avoided  with  great  caution, 
lest  men,  intoxicated  therewith,  grow  fond  of  their  old  in¬ 
firmities,  and  return  to  their  former  freaks,  like  beasts  that 
cannot  be  driven  from  their  haunts.  Cyrus  therefore,  yet 
a  young  stripling,  was  most  worthy  of  admiration,  who 
would  never  challenge  his  equals  and  playfellows  to  any 
exercise  wherein  he  excelled,  but  to  such  only  wherein  he 
knew  himself  to  be  inferior ;  unwilling  that  they  should 
fret  for  the  loss  of  the  prize  which  he  was  sure  to  win, 

‘  and  loath  to  lose  what  he  could  himself  gain  from  the 
others’  better  skill. 

On  the  other  side,  the  profuse  talker  is  of  such  a  dispo¬ 
sition  that,  if  any  discourse  happen  from  which  he  might 
be  able  to  learn  something  and  inform  his  ignorance,  that 
he  refuses  and  rejects,  nor  can  you  hire  him  even  to  hold 
his  tongue  ;  but  after  his  rolling  and  restless  fancy  has 
mustered  up  some  few  obsolete  and  all-to-be-tattered  rhap- 

*  From  the  Antiope  of  Euripides,  Frag.  183. 


OF  GARRULITY  OR  TALKATIVENESS. 


341 


sodies  to  supply  his  vanity,  out  he  flings  them,  as  if  he 
were  master  of  all  the  knowledge  in  the  world.  Just  like 
one  amongst  us  who,  having  read  two  or  three  of  Ephorus's 
books,  tired  all  men’s  ears,  and  spoiled  and  brake  up  all 
the  feasts  and  societies  wherever  he  came,  with  his  con¬ 
tinual  relations  of  the  battle  of  Leuctra  and  the  conse¬ 
quences  of  it ;  by  which  means  he  got  himself  a  nickname, 
and  every  one  called  him  Epaminondas. 

23.  But  this  is  one  of  the  least  inconveniences  of  this, 
infirmity ;  and  indeed  we  ought  to  make  it  one  step  towards 
the  cure,  to  turn  this  violent  vein  of  twattling  upon  such 
subjects  as  those.  Eor  such  a  loquacity  is  less  a  nuisance, 
when  it  superabounds  in  what  belongs  to  humane  litera¬ 
ture.  It  would  be  well  also  that  the  sort  of  people  Avho 
are  addicted  to  this  vice  should  accustom  themselves  to 
write  upon  some  subject  or  other,  and  to  dispute  of  certain 
questions  apart.  For  Antipater  the  Stoic,  as  we  may 
probably  conjecture,  either  not  being  able  or  else  unwilling 
to  come  into  dispute  with  Carneades,  vehemently  inveigh¬ 
ing  against  the  Stoics,  declined  to  meet  him  fairly  in  the 
schools,  yet  would  be  always  .writing  answers  against  him ; 
and  because  he  filled  .whole  volumes  full  of  contradictory 
arguments,  and  still  opposed  him  with  assertions  that  only 
made  a  noise,  he  was  called  Calamoboas,  as  one  that  made 
a  great  clamor  with  his  pen  to  no  purpose.  So  it  is  very 
probable  that  such  fighting  with  their  own  shadows,  and 
exclaiming  one  against  another  apart  by  themselves,  driving 
and  restraining  them  from  the  multitude,  would  render 
them  gradually  more  tolerable  and  sociable  in  civil  com¬ 
pany  ;  as  curs,  after  they  have  once  discharged  their  fury 
upon  sticks  and  stones,  become  less  fierce  towards  men. 
It  would  be  always  of  great  importance  to  them  to  con¬ 
verse  with  their  superiors  and  elders ;  for  that  the  awful 
reverence  and  respect  which  they  bear  to  their  dignity  and 
gravity  may  accustom  them  in  time  to  silence. 


342 


or  GARRULITY,  OR  TALKATIVENESS. 


And  it  would  be  evermore  expedient  to  intermix  and  in¬ 
volve  with  these  exercises  this  manner  of  ratiocination 
with  ourselves,  before  we  speak,  and  at  the  very  moment 
that  the  words  are  ready  to  break  out  of  our  mouths : 
What  is  this  which  I  would  say,  that  presses  so  hard  to  be 
gone  ?  For  what  reason  would  this  tongue  of  mine  so  fain 
be  talking]  What  good  shall  I  get  by  speaking]  What 
mischief  shall  I  incur  by  holding  my  peace  ]  For  we  are 
not  to  ease  and  discharge  ourselves  of  our  words,  as  if  they 
were  a  heavy  burthen  that  overloaded  us ;  for  speech  re¬ 
mains  as  well  when  uttered  as  before ;  but  men  either 
speak  in  behalf  of  themselves  when  some  necessity  com¬ 
pels  them,  or  for  the  benefit  of  those  that  hear  them,  or 
else  to  recreate  one  another  with  the  delights  of  converse, 
on  purpose  to  mitigate  and  render  more  savory,  as  with 
salt,  the  toils  of  our  daily  employments.  But  if  there  be 
nothing  profitable  in  speaking,  nothing  necessary  to  them 
that  hear  what  is  said,  nothing  of  satisfaction  or  delight, 
what  need  is  there  it  should  be  spoken]  For  words  may 
be  in  vain  and  to  no  purpose,  as  well  as  deeds.  But  after 
and  above  all  that  has  been  said,  we  ought  always  to  bear 
in  remembrance,  and  always  to  have  at  our  tongue’s  end, 
that  saying  of  Simonides,  that  he  had  often  repented  him 
of  talking,  but  never  of  keeping  silent.  Then  as  for  ex¬ 
ercise,  we  must  believe  it  to  be  a  matter  of  great  impor¬ 
tance,  as  being  that  which  overcomes  and  masters  all  things  ; 
considering  what  watchful  care  and  even  toil  and  labor 
men  will  undergo  to  get  rid  of  an  old  cough  or  hiccough. 
But  silence  and  taciturnity  not  only  never  cause  a  dry 
throat,  as  Hippocrates  observes,  but  are  altogether  free 
from  pain  and  sorrow. 


LIVES  OF  THE  TEN  OEATORS. 


I.  ANTIPHON. 

Antiphon,  the  son  of  Sophilus,  by  descent  a  Ehamnu- 
sian,  was  his  father  s  scholar ;  for  Sophilus  kept  a  rhetoric 
school,  to  which  it  is  reported  that  Alcibiades  himself  had 
recourse  in  his  youth.  Having  attained  to  competent 
measure  of  knowledge  and  eloquence,  —  and  that,  as  some 
believe,  from  his  own  natural  ingenuity,  —  he  dedicated  his 
study  chiefly  to  affairs  of  state.  And  yet  he  was  for  some 
time  conversant  in  the  schools,  and  had  a  controversy  with 
Socrates  the  philosopher  about  the  art  of  disputing,  —  not 
so  much  for  the  sake  of  contention  as  for  the  profit  of 
arguing,  as  Xenophon  tells  us  in  his  Commentaries  of  So¬ 
crates.  At  the  request  of  some  citizens,  he  wrote  orations 
by  which  they  defended  their  suits  at  law.  Some  say  that 
he  was  the  first  that  ever  did  any  thing  of  this  nature. 
For  it  is  certain  there  is  not  one  juridical  oration  extant 
written  by  any  orator  that  lived  before  him,  nor  by  his  con¬ 
temporaries  either,  as  Themistocles,  Aristides,  and  Pericles ; 
though  the  times  gave  them  opportunity,  and  there  was 
need  enough  of  their  labor  in  such  business.  Not  that  we 
are  to  impute  it  to  their  want  of  parts  that  they  did  noth¬ 
ing  in  this  way,  for  we  may  inform  ourselves  of  the  contrary 
from  what  historians  relate  of  each  of  them.  Besides,  if 
we  inspect  the  most  ancient  of  those  known  in  history  who 
had  the  same  form  and  method  in  their  pleadings,  such  as 
Alcibiades,  Critias,  Lysias,  and  Archinous,  we  shall  |uad 


344 


LIVES  OF  THE  TEN  ORATORS. 


that  they  all  followed  Antiphon  when  he  was  old.  For 
being  a  man  of  incomparable  sagacity,  he  was  the  first 
that  published  institutions  of  oratory  ;  and  by  reason  of 
his  profound  learning,  he  was  surnamed  Nestor.  Caecilius, 
in  a  tract  which  he  wrote  of  him,  supposes  him  to  have 
been  Thucydides’s  pupil,  from  what  Antiphon  delivered  in 
praise  of  him.  He  is  most  accurate  in  his  orations,  in  in¬ 
vention  subtle ;  and  he  would  frequently  baffle  his  adver¬ 
sary  at  unawares,  by  a  covert  sort  of  pleading ;  in  trouble¬ 
some  and  intricate  matters  he  was  very  judicious  and  sharp  ; 
and  as  he  was  a  great  admirer  of  ornamental  speaking,  he 
would  always  adapt  his  orations  fo  both  law  and  reason. 

He  lived  about  the  time  of  the  Persian  war  and  of 
Gorgias  the  rhetorician,  being  somewhat  younger  than  he. 
And  he  lived  to  see  the  subversion  of  the  popular  govern¬ 
ment  in  the  commonwealth  which  was  wrought  by  the 
four  hundred  conspirators,  in  which  he  himself  is  thought 
to  have  had  the  chiefest  hand,  being  sometimes  commander 
of  two  galleys,  and  sometimes  general,  and  having  by  the 
many  and  great  victories  he  obtained  gained  them  many 
allies,  he  armed  the  young  men,  manned  out  sixty  galleys, 
and  on  all  their  occasions  went  ambassador  to  Lacedaemon 
at  the  time  when  Eetionia  was  fortified.  But  when  those 
Four  Hundred  were  overcome  and  taken  down,  he  with 
Archeptolemus,  who  was  likewise  one  of  the  same  number, 
^vas  accused  of  the  conspiracy,  condemned,  and  sentenced 
to  the  punishment  due  to  traitors,  his  body  cast  out  un¬ 
buried,  and  all  his  posterity  infamous  on  record.  But 
there  are  some  who  tell  us,  that  he  was  put  to  death  by  the 
Thirty  Tyrants ;  and  among  the  rest,  Lysias,  in  his  oration 
for  Antiphon’s  daughter,  says  the  same ;  for  he  left  a  little 
daughter,  whom  Callaeschrus  claimed  for  his  wife  by  the 
law  of  propinquity.  And  Theopompus  likewise,  in  his 
Fifteenth  Book  of  Philippics,  tells  us  the  same  thing.  But 
this  must  have  been  another  Antiphon,  son  of  Lysidonides, 


LIVES  OF  THE  TEN  ORATORS. 


345 


whom  Cratinus  mentions  in  his  Pytine  as  a  rascal.  But 
how  could  he  be  executed  in  the  time  of  the  Four  Hundred, 
and  afterward  live  to  be  put  to  death  by  the  Thirty  Tyrants  ? 
There  is  likewise  another  story  of  the  manner  of  his  death  : 
that  when  he  was  old,  he  sailed  to  Syracuse,  when  the 
tyranny  of  Dionysius  the  First  was  most  famous ;  and 
being  at  table,  a  question  was  put,  what  sort  of  brass  was 
best.  When  others  had  answered  as  they  thought  most 
proper,  he  replied.  That  is  the  best  brass,  of  which  the 
statues  of  Harmodius  and  Aristogiton  were  made.  The 
tyrant  hearing  this,  and  taking  it  as  a  tacit  exhortation  to 
his  subjects  to  contrive  his  ruin,  he  commanded  Antiphon 
to  be  put  to  death ;  and  some  say  that  he  put  him  to  death 
for  deriding  his  tragedies. 

This  orator  is  reported  to  have  written  sixty  orations ; 
but  Caecilius  supposes  twenty-five  of  them  to  be  spurious 
and  none  of  his.  Plato,  in  his  comedy  called  Pisander, 
traduces  him  as  a  covetous  man.  He  is  reported  to  have 
composed  some  of  his  tragedies  alone,  and  others  with 
Dionysius  the  tyrant.  While  he  was  poetically  inclined, 
he  invented  an  art  of  curing  the  distemper  of  the  mind,  as 
physicians  are  wont  to  provide  cure  of  bodily  diseases. 
And  having  at  Corinth  built  him  a  little  house,  in  or  near 
the  market,  he  set  a  postscript  over  the  gate,  to  this  effect : 
that  he  had  a  way  to  cure  the  distemper  of  men’s  minds  by 
words ;  and  let  him  but  know  the  cause  of  their  malady, 
he  w^ould  immediately  prescribe  the  remedy,  to  their  com¬ 
fort.  But  after  some  time,  thinking  that  art  not  worth  his 
while,  he  betook  himself  to  the  study  and  teaching  of 
oratory.  There  are  some  Avho  ascribe  the  book  of  Glaucus 
of  Bhegium  concerning  Poets  to  him  as  author.  His  ora¬ 
tions  concerning  Herodes,  against  Erasistratus  concerning 
Peacocks,*  are  very  much  commended,  and  also  that  which, 
when  he  was  accused,  he  penned  for  himself  against  a 

*  Concerning  Ideas,  according  to  the  MSS.  (G.) 


346 


LIVES  OF  THE  TEN  ORATORS. 


public  indictment,  and  that  against  Demosthenes  the 
general  for  moving  an  illegal  measure.  He  likewise  had 
another  against  Hippocrates  the  general ;  who  did  not 
appear  on  the  day  appointed  for  his  trial,  and  .was  con¬ 
demned  in  his  absence. 

Caecilius  has  recorded  the  decree  of  the  senate  for  the 
judicial  trial  of  Antiphon,  passed  in  the  year*  in  which 
Theopompus  was  chief  magistrate  of  Athens,  the  same  in 
which  the  Four  Hundred  were  overthrown,  —  in  these 
words : 

“  Enacted  by  the  senate  on  the  twenty-first  day  of  the 
prytany.  Demonicus  of  Alopece  was  clerk ;  Philostratus 
of  Pallene  w^as  president. 

“  Andron  moved  in  regard  to  those  men,  —  viz.  Archep- 

F 

tolemus,  Onomacles,  and  xlntiphon,  whom  the  generals  had 
declared  against,  for  that  they  went  in  an  embassage  to 
Lacedaemon,  to  the  great  damage  of  the  city  of  Athens, 
and  departed  from  the  camp  in  an  enemies’  ship,  and 
went  through  Decelea  by  land,  —  that  they  should  be 
apprehended  and  brought  before  the  court  for  a  legal 
trial. 

“  Therefore  let  the  generals,  with  others  of  the  senate, 
to  the  number  of  ten,  whom  it  shall  please  the  generals  to 
name  and  choose,  look  after  these  men  to  present  them 
before  the  court,  that  they  may  be  present  during  the  pro¬ 
ceedings.  Then  let  the  Thesmothetes  summon  the  de¬ 
fendants  to  appear  on  the  morrow,  and  let  them  open  the 
proceedings  in  court  at  the  time  at  which  the  summonses 
shall  be  returnable.  Then  let  the  chosen  advocates,  with 
the  generals  and  any  others  who  may  have  any  thing  to  say, 
accuse  the  defendants  of  treason ;  and  if  any  one  of  them 
shall  be  found  guilty,  let  sentence  be  passed  upon  him  as  a 
traitor,  according  to  the  law  in  such  case  made  and  pro¬ 
vided.” 

*  Theopompus  was  Archon'in  b.c.  411.  (G.) 


LIVES  OF  THE  TEN  ORATORS. 


347 


At  the  bottom  of  this  decree  was  subscribed  the  sen¬ 
tence  :  — 

“  Archeptolemus  son  of  Hippodamus,  the  Agrylian,  and 
Antiphon  son  of  Sophilus,  the  E-amnusian,  being  both 
present  in  court,  are  condemned  of  treason.  And  this 
was  to  be  their  punishment :  that  they  should  be  delivered 
to  the  eleven  executioners,  their  goods  confiscated,  the 
tenth  part  of  them  being  first  consecrated  to  Minerva ; 
their  houses  to  be  levelled  with  the  ground,  and  in  the 
places  where  they  stood  this  subscription  to  be  engraven 
on  brass,  ‘  [The  houses]  of  Archeptolemus  and  Antiphon, 
traitors.’.  .  That  Archeptolemus  and  Antiphon  should 
neither  of  them  be  buried  in  Athens,  nor  anywhere  else 
under  that  government.  And  besides  all  this,  that  their 
posterity  should  be  accounted  infamous,  bastards  as  well 
as  their  lawful  progeny ;  and  he  too  should  be  held  infa¬ 
mous  who  should  adopt  any  one  of  their  progeny  for  his 
son.  And  that  all  this  should  be  engrossed  and  engraven 
on  a  brass  column,  and  that  column  should  be  placed 
where  that  stands  on  which  is  engraven  the  decree  con¬ 
cerning  Phrynichus.” 


11.  ANDOCIDES. 

Andocides,  the  son  of  Leogoras,  [and  grandson  of  that 
Andocides]  who  once  made  a  peace  between  the  Athenians 
and  the  Lacedaemonians,  by  descent  a  Cydathenian  or 
Thorian,  of  a  noble  family,  and,  as  Hellanicus  tells  us,  the 
offspring  of  Mercury  himself,  for  the  race  of  Heralds 
belongs  to  him.  On  this  account  he  was  chosen  by  the 
people  to  go  with  Glaucon,  with  twenty  sail  of  ships,  to 
aid  the  Corcyraeans  against  the  Corinthians.  But  in 

*  The  corrupt  clause  indicated  by  .  .  .  probably  means,  that  the  Demarchs  were 
to  make  inventories  [uno^^vai)  of  the  traitors’  estates.  (G.) 


348 


LIVES  OF  THE  TEN  ORATORS. 


process  of  time  he  was  accused  of  some  notorious  acts 
of  impiety,  as  that  he  was  of  the  number  of  those  Avho 
defaced  the  statues  of  Mercury  and  divulged  the  sacred 
mysteries  of  Ceres.  And  withal,  he  had  been  before  this 
time  wild  and  intemperate,  and  had  once  been  seen  in  the 
night  in  masquerade  to  break  one  of  the  statues  of  Mer¬ 
cury  ;  and  when  on  his  trial  he  refused  to  bring  his  servant 
to  examination  whom  his  accusers  named,  he  not  only 
remained  under  this  reproach,  but  was  also  on  this  account 
very  much  suspected  to  be  guilty  of  the  second  crime  too. 
This  later  action  was  laid  to  his  charge  soon  after  the  ex¬ 
pedition  of  the  navy  sent  by  the  Athenians  into  Sicily. 
For,  as  Cratippus  informs  us,  when  the  Corinthians  sent  the 
Leontines  and  Egestians  to  the -Athenians,  who  hesitated 
to  lend  them  assistance,  they  in  the  night  defaced  and 
brake  all  the  statues  of  Mercury  which  were  erected  in  the 
market.  To  which  offence  Andocides  added  another,  that 
of  divulging  the  mysteries  of  Ceres.  He  w’as  brought  to 
his  trial,  but  was  acquitted  on  condition  he  would  discover 
who  were  companions  with  him  in  the  crime.  In  which 
affair  being  very  diligent,  he  found  out  who  they  were  that  . 
had  been  guilty,  and  among  the  rest  he  discovered  his  own 
father.  He  proved  all  guilty,  and  caused  them  all  to  be 
put  to  death  except  his  father,  whom  he  saved,  though  in 
prison,  by  a  promise  of  some  eminent  service  he  would  do 
to  the  commonwealth. '  Nor  did  he  fail  of  what  he  prom¬ 
ised  ;  for  Leogoras  accused  many  who  had  acted  in  several 
matters  against  the  interest  of  the  commonwealth,  and 
for  this  was  acquitted  of  his  own  crime. 

Now,  though  Andocides  was  very  much  esteemed  of  for 
his  skill  in  the  management  of  the  afhiirs  of  the  com¬ 
monwealth,  yet  his  inclinations  led  him  rather  to  traffic  by 
sea ;  and  by  this  means  he  contracted  friendship  with  the 
kings  of  Cyprus  and  other  great  princes.  At  which  time 
he  privily  stole  a  damsel  of  the  city,  the  daughter  of  Aris- 


LIVES  OF  THE  TEN  ORATORS. 


349. 


tides,  and  his  own  niece,  and  sent  her  as  a  present  to  the 
king  of  Cyprus.  But  suspecting  he  should  be  called  in 
question  for  it,  he  again  stole  her  from  Cyprus,  for  which 
the  king  of  Cyprus  took  him  and  clapped  him  up  in 
prison ;  whence  he  brake  loose,  and  returned  to  Athens, 
just  at  that  time  when  the  four  hundred  conspirators  had 
usurped  the  government.  By  whom  being  confined,  he 
again  escaped  when  the  oligarchical  government  was 

broken  up .  But  when  the  Thirty  Tyrants  were 

uppermost,  he  withdrew  to  Elis,  and  there  lived  till  Thra- 
sybulus  and  his  faction  returned  into  the  city,  and  then  he 
also  repaired  thither.  And  after  some  time,  being  sent 
to  Lacedaemon  to  conciliate  a  peace,  he  was  again  sus¬ 
pected  to  be  faulty,  and  on  that  suspicion  banished. 

He  himself  has  given  an  account  of  all  these  transac¬ 
tions,  in  his  orations,  which  he  has  left  behind  him.  For 
some  of  them  contain  his  defence  of  himself  in  regard  to 
the  mysteries  ;  others  his  petition  for  restoration  from  ex¬ 
ile  ;  there  is  one  extant  on  Endeixis  (or  information  laid 
against  a  criminal) ;  also  a  defence  against  Phaeax,  and 
one  on  the  peace.  He  flourished  at  the  same  time  with 
Socrates  the  philosopher.  He  was  born  in  the  seventy- 
eighth  Olympiad,  when  Theogenides  was  chief  magistrate 
of  Athens,  so  that  he  should  seem  to  be  about  ten  years 
before  Lysias.  There  is  an  image  of  Mercury,  called  from 
his  name,  being  given  by  the  tribe  Aegeis ;  and  it  stood 
near  the  house  where  Andocides  dwelt,  and  was  therefore 
called  by  his  name.  This  Andocides  himself  was  at  the 
charge  of  a  cyclic  chorus  for  the  tribe  Aegeis,  at  the  per¬ 
formance  of  a  dithyrambus.  And  having  gained  a  victory, 
he  erected  a  tripod  on  an  ascent  opposite  to  the  tuffstone 
statue  of  Silenu^.  His  style  in  his  orations  is  plain  and 
easy,  without  the  least  affectation  or  any  thing  of  a  figura¬ 
tive  ornament. 


350 


LIVES  OF  THE  TEN  ORATORS. 


III.  LYSIAS. 

Lysias  was  the  son  of  Cephalus,  grandson  of  Lysanias, 

and  great-grandson  of  Cephalus.  His  father  was  by  binh 

a  Syracusan  ;  but  partly  for  the  love  he  had  to  the  city, 

and  partly  in  condescension  to  the  persuasions  of  Pericles 

the  son  of  Xanthippus,  who  entertained  him  as  his  friend 

and  guest,  he  went  to  live  at  Athens,  being  a  man  of  great 

wealth.  Some  say  that  he  was  banished  Syracuse  when 

the  city  was  under  the  tyranny  of  Gelo.  Lysias  was  born^ 

at  Athens  when  Philocles,  the  successor  of  Phrasicles,  was 

\ 

chief  magistrate,  in  the  second  year  of  the  eightieth  Olym: 
piad.*  At  his  first  coming,  he  was  educated  among  the 
most  noble  of  the  Athenians.  But  when  the  city  sent 
a  colony  to  Sybaris,  which  was  afterwards  called  Thurii,  he 
went  thither  with  his  other  brother  Polemarchus,  his  father 
being  now  dead  (for  he  had  two  other  brothers,  Euthy- 
demus  and  Brachyllus),  that  he  might  receive  his  portion 
of  his  father’s  estate.  This  was  done  in  the  fifteenth  year 
of  his'  age,  when  Praxiteles  was  chief  magistrate. *[*  There 
then  h^e  stayed,  and  was  brought  up  under  Nicias  and  Tisias, 
both  Syracusans.  And  having  purchased  a  house  and  re¬ 
ceived  his  estate,  he  lived  as  a  citizen  for  thirty-three  years, 
till  the  year  of  Cleocritus.J  In  the  year  following,  in  the 
time  of  Callias,  viz.  in  the  ninety-second  Olympiad,  when  the 
Athenians  had  met  with  their  disasters  in  Sicily,  and  when 
other  of  their  allies  revolted,  and  especially  the  Italians, 
he,  being  accused  of  favoring  the  Athenians,  was  han- 
ished  with  three  other  of  his  association  ;  when  coming  to 
Athens,  in  the  year  wherein  Callias  succeeded  Cleocritus, 
the  city  then  laboring  under  the  tyranny  of  the  four  hundred 
conspirators,  he  there  sat  down.  But  aTter  the  fight  at 
Aegospotami,  when  the  Thirty  Tyrants  had  usurped  the 


LIVES  OF  THE  TEN  ORATORS. 


351 


government,  he  was  banished  thence,  after  he  had  remained 
in  Athens  seven  years.  His  goods  were  confiscated  ;  and 
having  likewise  lost  his  brother  Polemarchus,  he  himself 
escaped  by  a  back  door  of  the  house  in  which  he  was  kept 
for  execution,  fled  to  Megara  and  there  lived.  But  when 
the  citizens  endeavored  to  return  from  Phyle,  he  also  be¬ 
haved  himself  very  wxll,  and  appeared  very  active  in  the 
affair,  having,  to  forward  this  great  enterprise,  deposited 
two  thousand  drachms  of  silver  and  two  hundred  targets, 
and  being  commissioned  with  Hermas,  he  maintained  three 
hundred  men  in  arms,  and  prevailed  with  Thrasylaeus  the 
Elean,  his  old  friend  and  host,  to  contribute  two  talents. 
Upon  entering  the  city,  Thrasybulus  proposed  that,  for  a 
consideration  of  his  good  service  to  the  public,  he  should 
receive  the  rights  of  citizenship  :  this  was  during  the  so- 
called  time  of  anarchy  before  Euclides.  Which  proposal 
being  ratified  by  the  people,  Archinus  objected  that  it  was 
against  the  laws,  and  a  decree  without  authority  of  the 
senate.  The  decree  ^was  thereupon  declared  void,  and 
Lysias  lost  his  citizenship.  He  led  the  remainder  of  his 
life  in  the  rank  of  an  Isoteles  (or  citizen  who  had  no  right 
to  vote  or  hold  office),  and  died  at  last  at  Athens,  being 
fourscore  and  three  years  old^  or  as  some  would  have  it, 
seventy-six  ;  and  others  again  say,  that  he  lived  above  four¬ 
score  years,  till  after  the  birth  of  Demosthenes.  It  is  sup¬ 
posed  he  was  born  in  the  year  of  Philocles. 

There  are  four  hundred  and  twenty-five  orations  which 
bear  his  name,  of  which  Dionysius  and  Caecilius  affirm 
only  two  hundred  and  thirty  to  be  genuine,  and  he  is  said 
to  have  been  overcome  but  twice  in  all.  There  is  extant 
also  the  oration  which  he  made  in  defence  of  the  fore- 
mentioned  decree  against  Archinus.  who  indicted  it  and 
thereby  prevented  Lysias  from  receiving  the  citizenship,  as 
also  another  against  the  Thirty  Tyrants.  He  was  very  co¬ 
gent  in  his  persuasions,  and  was  always  very  brief  in  what 


352 


LIVES  OF  THE  TEN  ORATORS. 


he  delivered.  He  would  commonly  give  orations  to  private 
persons.  There  are  likewise  his  institutions  of  oratory, 
his  public  harangues,  his  epistles,  his  eulogies,  funeral 
orations,  discourses  of  love,  and  his  defence  of  Socrates, 
accommodated  to  the  minds  of  the  judges.  His  style 
seems  plain  and  easy,  though  hardly  imitable.  Demosthe¬ 
nes,  in  his  oration  against  Neaera,  says  that  he  was  in  love 
with  one  Metanira,  Neaera’s  serving-maid,  but  afterwards 
married  his  brother  Brachyllus’s  daughter.  Plato  in  his 
Phaedrus  makes  mention  of  him,  as  a  most  eloquent  ora¬ 
tor  and  ancienter  than  Isocrates.  Philiscus,  his  companion, 
and  Isocrates’s  votary,  composed  an  epigram  concerning 
him,  whence  the  same  that  we  have  urged  from  Plato  is 
deducible ;  and  it  sings  to  this  effect :  . 

Calliope’s  witty  daughter,  Phrontis,  show 
If  aught  of  wit  or  eloquence  tlrou  hast ; 

For  ’tis  decreed  that  thou  shalt  bear  a  son, 

Lysias  by  name,  to  spread  the  name  of  him 
Wliose  great  and  generous  acts  do  fill  the  world. 

And  are  received  for  glorious  above. 

Let  him  who  sings  those  prai^s  of  the  dead. 

Let  him,  my  friend,  too,  praise  our  amity. 

He  likewise  wrote  two  orations  for  Iphicrates,  —  one 
against  Harmodius,  and  another  accusing  Timotheus  of 
treason,  —  in  both  which  he  overcame.  But  wdien  Iphi¬ 
crates  made  himself  responsible  for  Timotheus’s  actions, 
and  would  purge  himself  of 'the  allegation  of  Treason 
made  also  against  him,  Lysias  wrote  an  oration  for  him  to 
deliver  in  his  defence  ;  upon  which  he  was  acquitted,  but 
Timotheus  was  fined  in  a  considerable  sum  of  money. 
He  likewise  delivered  an  oration  at  the  Olympic  games, 
in  which  he  endeavored  to  convince  the  Greeks  of  how 
great  advantage  it  would  be  to  them,  if  they  could  but 
unanimously  join  to  pull  down  the  tyrant  Dionysius. 


LIVES  OF  THE  TEN  ORATORS. 


353 


rV.  ISOCRATES. 

Isocrates  was  the  son  of  Theodoras,  of  Erchia,  reck- 

t 

oned  among  the  middle  class  of  citizens,  and  a  man  who 
kept  servants  under  him  to  make  flutes,  by  which  he  got 
so  much  money  as  enabled  him  not  only  to  bring  up  his 
children  after  the  most  genteel  manner,  but  likewise  to 
maintain  a  choir.  For  besides  Isocrates,  he  had  other 
sons,  Telesippus  and  Diomnestus,  and  one  daughter.  And 
hence,  we  may  suppose,  those  two  comical  poets,  Aristo¬ 
phanes  and  Stratis,  took  occasion  to  bring  him  on  the 
stage.  He  was  born  in  the  eighty-sixth  Olympiad,*  Lysi- 
machus  being  archon,  about  two  and  twenty  years  after 
Lysias,  and  seven  before  Plato.  When  he  was  a  boy,  he 
W'as  as  well  educated  as  any  of  the  Athenian  children, 
being  under  the  tuition  of  Prodicus  the  Cean,  Gorgias  the 
Leontine,  Tisias  the  Syracusan,  and  Theramenes  the  rhe¬ 
torician.  And  when  Theramenes  was  to  be  apprehended 
by  the  order  of  the  Thirty  Tyrants,  and  flying  for  succor 
to  the  altar  of  the  senate,  only  Isocrates  stood  his  friend, 
when  all  others  were  struck  with  terror.  For  a  long  time 
he  stood  silent ;  but  after  some  time  Theramenes  advised 
him  to  desist,  because,  he  tdld  him,  it  would  be  an  aggra¬ 
vation  of  his  grief,  if  any  of  his  friends  should  come 
into  trouble  through  him.  And  it  is  said  that  he  made 

O 

use  of  certain  institutions  of  rhetoric  composed  by  Thera¬ 
menes,  when  he  was  slandered  in  court ;  which  institutions 
have  since  borne  Boton’s  name. 

When  Isocrates  was  come  to  man’s  estate,  he  meddled 
with  nothing  of  state  affairs,  both  because  he  had  a  very 
w*eak  voice  and  because  he  was  something  timorous ;  and 
besides  these  two  impediments,  his  estate  was  much  im¬ 
paired  by  the  loss  of  a  great  part  of  his  patrimony  in  the 

♦  B.c.  436. 


354 


LIVES  OF  THE  TEN  ORATORS. 


war  with  the  Lacedaemonians.  It  is  evident  that  he 
composed  orations  for  others  to  use,  but  delivered  only  one, 
that  concerning  Exchange  of  Property.  Having  set  up  a 
school,  he  gave  himself  much  to  writing  and  the  study  of 
philosophy,  and  then  he  wrote  his  Panegyrical  oration, 
and  others  which  were  used  for  advice,  some  of  which  he 
delivered  himself,  and  others  he  gave  to  others  to  pro¬ 
nounce  for  him ;  aiming  thereby  to  persuade  the  Greeks 
to  the  study  and  practice  of  such  things  as  were  of  most 
immediate  concern  to  them.  But  his  endeavors  in  that  way 
proving  to  no  purpose,  he  gave  those  things  over,  and 
opened  a  school  in  Chios  first,  as  some  will  have  it,  having 
for  a  beginning  nine  scholars  ;  and  when  they  came  to  him 
to  pay  him  for  their  schooling,. he  weeping  said,  ‘-Now  I 
see  plainly  that  I  am  sold  to  my  scholars.”  He  admitted 
all  into  his  acquaintance  who  desired  it.  He  was  the  first 
•  that  made  a  separation  between  wrangling  pleas  and  polit¬ 
ical  arguments,  to  which  latter  he  rather  addicted  himself. 
He  instituted  a  form  of  magistracy  in  Chios,  much  the 
same  with  that  at  Athens.  No  schoolmaster  ever  got  so 
much ;  so  that  be  maintained  a  galley  at  his  own  charge. 
He  had  more  than  a  hundred  scholars,  and  among  others 
Timotheus  the  son  of  Conon  was  one,  with  whom  h.2 
visited  many  cities,  and  composed  the  epistles  which  Timo¬ 
theus  sent  to  the  Athenians ;  who  for  his  pains  gave  him 
a  talent  out  of  that  which  he  got  at  Samos.  Theopom- 
pus  likewise  the  Chian,  Ephorus  the  Cumaean,  Asclepiades 
who  composed  arguments  for  tragedies,  and  Theodectes  of 
Phaselis,  who  afterwards  wrote  tragedies,  were  all  Iso¬ 
crates’s  scholars.  The  last  of  these  had  a  monument  in 
the  way  to  the  shrine  of  Cyamites,  as  we  go  to  Eleusis  by 
the  Sacred  Way,  of  which  now  remains  only  rubbish. 
There  also  he  set  up  with  his  own  the  statues  of  other 
famous  poets,  of  all  which  only  Homer’s  is  to  he  seen. 
Leodamas  also  the  Athenian,  and  Lacritus  who  gave  laws 


LIVES  OF  THE  TEN  ORATORS. 


355 


to  the  Athenians,  were  both  his  scholars ;  and  some  say, 
Hyperides  and  Isaeus  too.  They  add  likewise,  that  De¬ 
mosthenes  also  was  very  desirous  to  learn  of  him,  and 
because  he  could  not  give  the  full  rate,  which  was  a  thou¬ 
sand  drachms,  he  offered  him  two  hundred,  the  fifth  part, 
if  he  would  teach  him  but  the  fifth  part  of  his  art  propor¬ 
tionable.:  to  whom  Isocrates  answered.  We  do  not  use, 
Demosthenes,  to  impart  our  skill  by  halves,  but  as  men 
sell  good  fish  whole,  or  altogether,  so  if  thou  hast  a  desire 
to  learn,  we  will  teach  thee  our  full  art,  and  not  a  piece 
of  it.  He  died  in  the  year  when  Charondas  was  chief 
magistrate,*  when,  being  at  Hippocrates’s  public  exercise, 
he  received  the  news  of  the  slaughter  at  Chaeronea;  for 
he  was  the  cause  of  his  own  death  by  a  four  days’  fast, 
which  he  then  made,  pronouncing  just  at  his  departure 
the  three  verses  which  begin  three  tragedies  of  Euripides  * 

Danaus,  father  of  the  fifty  sisters,  — 

Pelops,  son  of  Tantalus,  in  quest  of  Pisa,  — ■ 

Cadmus,  in  time  past,  going  from  Sidon. 

He  lived  ninety-eight  years,  or,  as  some  say,  a  hundred, 
not  being  able  to  behold  Greece  the  fourth  time  brought 
into  slavery.  The  year  (or,  as  some  say,  foui  years)  before 
he  died,  he  wrote  his  Panathenaic  oration.  He  labored 
upon  his  Panegyric  oration  ten  years,  or,  as  some  tell  us, 
fifteen,  which  he  is  supposed  to  have  borrowed  out  of 
Gorgias  the  Leontine  and  Lysias.  His  oration  concerning 
Exchange  of  Property  he  wrote  when  he  was  eighty-two 
years  old,  and  those  to  Philip  a  little  before  his  death. 
When  he  was  old,  he  adopted  Aphareus,  the  youngest  of 
the  three  sons  of  Plathane,  the  daughter  of  Hippias  the 
orator.  He  was  very  rich,  both  in  respect  of  the  great 
sums  of  money  he  exacted  of  his  scholars,  and  besides 
that,  having  at  one  time  twenty  talents  of  Nicocles,  king 
of  Cyprus,  for  an  oration  which  he  dedicated  to  him.  By 


*  B.c.  338. 


366 


LIVES  OE  THE  TEN  ORATORS. 


reason  of  his  riches  he  became  obnoxious  to  the  envy  of 
others,  and  was  three  times  named  to  maintain  a  galley ; 
which  he  evaded  twice  by  the  assistance  of  his  son  and  a 
counterfeit  sickness,  but  the  third  time  he  undertook  it, 
though  the  charge  proved  very  great.  A  father  telling  him 
that  he  had  allowed  his  son  no  other  companion  than  one 
slave,  Isocrates  replied.  Go  thy  way  then,  for  one  slave 
thou  shaft  have  two.  He  strove  for  the  prize  which  Are- 
temisia  dedicated  to  the  honor  and  memory  of  her  husband 
Mausolus  ;  but  that  oration  is  lost.  He  wrote  also  another 
oration  in  praise  of  Helen,  and  one  called  Areopagiticus. 
Some  say  that  he  died  when  he  had  fasted  nine  days, 
—  some  again,  at  four  days’  end,  —  and  his  death  took  its 
date  from  the  funeral  solemnities  of  those  that  lost  their 
lives  at  Chaeronea.  His  son  Aphareus  likewise  wrote 
several  orations. 

He  lies  buried  wdth  all  his  family  near  Cynosarges,  on 
the  left  hand  of  the  hill.  There  are  interred  Isocrates 
and  his  father  Theodorus,  his  mother  and  her  sister  Anaco, 
his  adoptive  son  Aphareus,  Socrates  the  son  of  Anaco, 
Theodorus  his  brother,  bearing  his  father’s  name,  his 
grandsons,  the  sons  of  his  adopted  Aphareus,  and  his 
wife  Plathane,  the  mother  of  Aphareus.  On  these  tombs 
were  erected  six  tables,  which  are  now  demolished.  And 
upon  the  tomb  of  Isocrates  himself  was  placed  a  column  - 
thirty  cubits  high,  and  on  that  a  mermaid  of  seven  cubits, 
-which  was  an  emblem  of  his  eloquence  ;  there  is  nothing 
now  extant.  There  was  also  near  it  a  table,  having  poets 
and  his  schoolmasters  on  it;  and  among  the  rest,  Gorgias 
inspecting  a  celestial  globe,  and  Isocrates  standing  by  him. 
There  is  likewise  a  statue  of  his  of  bronze  in  Eleusis, 
dedicated  by  Timothy  the  son  of  Conon,  before  the  entry 
of  the  porch,  with  this  inscription : 

To  the  fame  and  honor  of  Isocrates, 

This  statue’s  sacred  to  tiie  Goddesses ; 

The  gift  of  Timothy. 


LIVES  OF  THE  TEN  ORATORS. 


357 


This  statue  was  made  by  Leochares.  There  are  three¬ 
score  orations  which  bear  his  name  ;  of  which,  if  we  credit 
Dionysius,  only  five  and  twenty  are  genuine ;  but  accord¬ 
ing  to  Caecilius,  twenty-eight ;  and  the  rest  are  accounted 
spurious.  He  was  an  utter  stranger  to  ostentation,  inso¬ 
much  that,  when  there  came  at  one  time  three  persons  to 
hear  him  declaim,  he  admitted  but  two  of  them,  desiring 
the  third  to  come  the  next  day,  for  that  two  at  once  were 
to  him  as  a  full  theatre.  He  used  to  tell  his  scholars  that 
he  taught  his  art  for  ten  minas ;  but  he  would  give  any 
man  ten  thousand,  that  could  teach  him  to  be  bold  and 
give  him  a  good  utterance.  And  being  once  asked  how 
he,  who  was  not  very  eloquent  himself,  could  make  others 
so,  he  answered.  Just  as  a  whetstone  cannot  cut,  yet  it  will 
sharpen  knives  for  that  purpose.  Some  say  that  he  wrote 
institutions  to  the  art  of  oratory others  are  of  opinion 
that  he  had  no  method  of  teaching,  but  only  exercise. 
He  would  never  ask  any  thing  of  a  free-born'  citizen.  He 
used  to  enjoin  his  scholars  being  present  at  public  assem¬ 
blies  to  repeat  to  him  what  was  there  delivered.  He  con¬ 
ceived  no  little  sorrow  for  the  death  of  Socrates,  insomuch 
that  the  next  day  he  put  himself  in  mourning.  Being 
asked  what  was  the  use  and  force  of  dietoric,  he  an¬ 
swered,  To  make  great  matters  small,  and  small  great. 
At  a  feast  with  Nicoceon,  the  tyrant  of  Cyprus,  being 
desired  by  some  of  the  company  to  declaim  upon  some 
theme,  he  made  answer,  that  that  was  not  a  season  for 
him  to  speak  what  he  knew,  and  he  knew  nothing  that 
was  then  seasonable.  Happening  once  to  see  Sophocles 
the  tragedian  amorously  eying  a  comely  boy,  he  said  to 
him.  It  will  become  thee,  Sophocles,  to  restrain  not  only 
thy  hands,  but  thine  eyes.  When  Ephorus  of  Cumae  left 
his  school  before  he  had  arrived  at  any  good  proficiency, 
his  father  Demophilus  sent  him  again  with  a  second  sum 
of  money  in  his  hand;  at  which  Isocrates  jocosely  called 


358 


LIVES  OF  THE  TEN  ORATORS. 


him  Diphorus,  that  is,  twice  hringmg  his  fee.  However, 
he  took  a  great  deal  of  pains  and  care  with  him,  and  went 
so  far  as  to  put  him  in  the  way  of  writing  history. 

He  was  wantonly  given ;  and  used  to  lie  upon  a  .  .  , 
mat  for  his  bed,  and  his  bolster  was  commonly  made  moist 
with  saffron.  He  never  married  while  he  was  young;  but 
in  his  old  age  he  kept  a  miss,  whose  name  was  Lagisce, 
and  by  her  he  had  a  daughter,  who  died  in  the  twelfth 
year  of  her  age,  before  she  was  married.  He  afterwards 
married  Plathane,  the  wife  of  Hippias  the  rhetorician,  w’ho 
had  three  sons,  the  youngest  of  which,  Aphareus  by  name, 
he  adopted  for  his  own,  as  we  said  before.  This  Aphareus 
erected  a  bronze  statue  to  him  near  the  temple  of  Jupiter, 
as  may  be  seen  from  the  inscription : 

In  veneration  of  the  mighty  Jove, 

His  noble  parents,  and  the  Gods  above, 

Aphareus  this  statue  here  has  set. 

The  statue  of  Isocrates  his  father. 

He  is  said  to  have  run  a  race  on  a  swift  horse,  when  he 
was  but  a  boy ;  for  he  is  to  be  seen  in  this  posture  in  the 
Citadel,  in  the  tennis  court  of  the  priestesses  of  Minerva, 
in  a  statue.  There  were  but  two  suits  commenced  against 
him  in  his  whole  life.  One  whereof  was  with  Megaclides, 
who  provoked  him  to  exchange  of  property  ;  at  the  trial  of 
which  he  could  not  be  personally  present,  by  reason  of 
sickness  ;  but  sending  Aphareus,  he  nevertheless  overcame. 
The  other  suit  was  commenced  against  him  by  Lysimachus, 
who  would  have  him  come  to  an  exchange  or  be  at  the 
charge  of  maintaining  a  galley  for  the  commonwealth.  In 
this  case  he  was  overthrown,  and  forced  to  perform  the 
service.  There  was  likewise  a  painting  of  him  in  the 
Pompeum. 

Aphareus  also  wrote  a  few  orations,  both  judicial  and 
deliberative ;  as  also  tragedies  to  the  number  of  thirty- 
seven,  of  which  two  are  contested.  He  be^an  to  make 


LIVES  OF  THE  TEN  ORATORS. 


359 


his  works  public  in  the  year  of  Lysistratus,  and  continued 
it  to  the  year  of  Sosigenes,  that  is,  eight  and  twenty  years.* 
In  these  years  he  exhibited  dramas  six  times  at  the  city 
Dionysiac  festivals,  and  twice  went  away  with  the  prize 
through  the  actor  Dionysius  ;  he  also  gained  two  other 
victories  at  the  Lenaean  festival  through  other  actors. 

There  were  to  be  seen  in  the  Citadel  the  statues  of  the 
mother  of  Isocrates,  of  Theodorus,  and  of  Anaco  his 
mother’s  sister.  That  of  the  mother  is  placed  just  by  the 
image  of  Health,  the  inscription  being  changed ;  that  of 
Anaco  is  no  longer  there.  [Anaco]  had  two  sons,  Alex¬ 
ander  by  Coenes,  and  Lysicles  by  Lysias. 


V.  TSAEUS. 

IsAEUS  "Was  born  in  Chalcis.  When  he  came  to  Athens, 
he  read  Lysias’s  works,  whom  he  imitated  so  well,  both  in 
his  style  and  in  his  skill  in  managing  causes,  that  he  who 
was  not  very  well  acquainted  with  their  manner  of  writing 
could  not  tell  which  of  the  two  was  author  of  many  of 
their  orations.  He  flourished  after  the  Peloponnesian  war, 
as  we  may  conjecture  from  his  orations,  and  was  in  repute 
till  the  reign  of  Philip.  He  taught  Demosthenes  —  not  at 
his  school,  but  privately  —  who  gave  him  ten  thousand 
drachms,  by  which  business  he  became  very  famous.  Some 
say  that  he  composed  orations  for  Demosthenes,  which  he 
pronounced  in  opposition  to  his  guardians.  He  left  behind 
him  sixty-four  orations,  of  which  fifty  are  his  own ;  as  like¬ 
wise  some  peculiar  institutions  of  rhetoric.  He  was  the 
first  that  used  to  speak  or  write  figuratively,  and  that  ad¬ 
dicted  himself  to  civil  matters ;  which  Demosthenes  chiefly 
followed.  Theopompus  the  comedian  makes  mention  of 
him  in  his  Theseus. 


♦  B.c.  369-342. 


360 


LIVES  OF  THE  TEN  ORATORS. 


VI.  AESCHINES. 

He  was  the  son  of  Atrometiis  —  who,  being  banished  by 
the  Thirty  Tyrants,  was  thereby  a  means  of  reducing  the 
commonwealth  to  the  government  of  the  people  —  and  of 
his  wife  Glaucothea ;  by  birth  a  Cothocidian.  He  w'as 
neither  nobly  born  nor  rich  ;  but  in  his  youth,  being  strong 
and  well  set,  he  addicted  himself  to  all  sorts  of  bodily  ex¬ 
ercises  ;  and  afterwards,  having  a  very  clear  voice,  he  took 

to  playing  of  tragedies,  and  if  we  may  credit  Demosthenes, 

* 

he  was  a  petty  clerk,  and  also  served  Aristodemus  as  a 
player  of  third  parts  at  the  Bacchanalian  festivals,  in  his 
times  of  leisure  rehearsing  the  ancient  tragedies.  When 
he  was  but  a  boy,  he  was  assisting  to  his  father  in  teaching 
little  children  their  letters,  and  when  he  was  grown  up,  he 
listed  himself  a  private  soldier.  Some  think  he  was 
brought  up  under  Socrates  and  Plato ;  but  Caecilius  will 
have  it  that  Leodamas  was  his  master.  Being  concerned 
in  the  affairs  of  the  commonwealth,  he  openly  acted  in 
opposition  to  Demosthenes  and  his  faction  ;  and  was  em¬ 
ployed  in  several  embassies,  and  especially  in  one  to  Philip, 
to  treat  about  articles  of  peace.  For  which  Demosthenes 
accused  him  for  being  the  cause  of  the  overthrow  and  ruin 
of  the  Phocians,  and  the  inflamer  of  war ;  which  part  he 
would  have  him  thought  to  have  acted  when  the  Amphic- 
tyons  chose  him  one  of  their  deputies  to  the  Amphissians 
who  were  building  up  the  harbor  [of  Crissa].  On  which 
the  Amphictyons  put  themselves  under  Philip’s  protection, 
who,  being  assisted  by  Aeschines,  took  the  affair  in  hand, 
and  soon  conquered  all  Phocis.^  But  Aeschines,  notwith¬ 
standing  all  that  Demosthenes  could  do,  being  favored  by 
Eubulus  the  son  of  Spintharus,  a  Probalisian,  who  plead- 

♦  The  Greek  text  is  corrupt ;  but  it  is  evident  that  the  author  confounds  the 
Phocian  war,  which  ended  in  346  b  c.,  with  the  Amphissian  war  of  339  b.o  The 
next  sentence  shows  the  same  mistake.  (G.) 


LIVES  OF  THE  TEN  ORATORS. 


361 


ed  in  liis  behalf,  carried  his  cause  by  thirty  voices,  and 
so  was  cleared.  Though  some  tell  us,  that  there  were 
orations  prepared  by  the  orators,  but  the  news  of  the  con¬ 
quest  of  Chaeronea  put  a  stop  to  the  present  proceedings, 
and  so  the  suit  fell. 

Some  time  after  this,  Philip  being  dead,  and  his  son 
Alexander  marching  into  Asia,  Aeschines  impeached  Ctesi- 
phon  for  acting  against  the  laws,  in  passing  a  decree  in 
favor  of  Demosthenes.  But  he  having  not  the  fifth  part 
of  the  voices  of  the  judges  on  his  side,  was  forced  to 
go  in  exile  to  Bhodes,  because  he  would  not  pay  his 
mulct  of  a  thousand  drachms.  Others  say,  that  he  in¬ 
curred  disfranchisement  also,  because  he  would  not  depart 
the  city,  and  that  he  went  to  Alexander  at  Ephesus.  But 
upon  the  death  of  Alexander,  when  a  tumult  had  been 
excited,  he  went  to  Rhodes,  and  there  opened  a  school  and 
taught.  And  on  a  time  pronouncing  the  oration  which  he 
had  formerly  made  against  Ctesiphon,  to  pleasure  the  Rho¬ 
dians,  he  did  it  with  that  grace,  that  they  wondered  how 
he  could  fail  of  carrying  his  cause  if  he  pleaded  so  well 
for  himself.  But  ye  would  not  wonder,  said  he,  that  I  was 
overthrown,  if  ye  had  heard  Demosthenes  pleading  against 
me.  He  left  a  school  behind  him  at  Rhodes,  which  was 
afterwards  called  the  Rhodian  school.  Thence  he  sailed 
to  Samos,  and  there  in  a  short  time  died.  He  had  a  very 
good  voice,  as  both  Demosthenes  and  Demochares  testified 
of  him. 

Four  orations  bear  his  name,  one  of  which  was  against 
Timarchus,  another  concerning  false  embassage,  and  a 
third  against  Ctesiphon,  which  three  are  really  his  own  ; 
but  the  fourth,  called  Deliaca,  is  none  of  his ;  for  though 
he  was  named  to  plead  the  cause  of  the  temple  at  Delos, 
yet  Demosthenes  tells  us  that  Hyperides  was  chosen  in 
his  stead."^  Pie  says  himself,  that  he  had  two  brothers, 

*  See  Demosthenes  on  the  Crown,  p.  271,  27. 


362 


LIVES  OF  THE  TEN  ORATORS. 


Aphobetus  and  Philochares.  He  was  the  first  that  brought 
the  Athenians  the  news  of  the  victory  obtained  at  Tamynae, 
for  which  he  was  crowned  for  the  second  time.  Some 
report  that  Aeschines  was  never  any  man’s  scholar,  but 
having  passed  his  time  chiefly  in  courts  of  justice,  he  raised 
himself  from  the  office  of  clerk  to  that  of  orator.  His  first 
public  appearance  was  in  a  speech  against  .Philip ;  with 
which  the  people  being  pleased,  he  was  immediately  chosen 
to  go  ambassador  to  the  Arcadians ;  and  being  come 
thither,  he  excited  the  Ten  Thousand  against  Philip. 
He  indicted  Timarchus  for  profligacy ;  who,  fearing  the 
issue,  deserted  his  cause  and  hanged  himself,  as  Demos¬ 
thenes  somewhere  informs  us.  Being  employed  with 
Ctesiphon  and  Demosthenes  in  an  embassage  to  Philip  to 
treat  of  peace,  he  appeared  the  most  accomplished  of  the 
three.  Another  time  also  he  was  one  of  ten  men  sent  in 
embassage  to  conclude  a  peace ;  and  being  afterwards 
called  to  answer  for  it,  he  was  acquitted,  as  we  said. 


VII.  LYCURGUS. 

Lycurgus  was  the  son  of  Lycophron,  and  grandson  of 
that  Lycurgus  whom  the  Thirty  Tyrants  put  to  death,  by 
the  procurement  of  Aristodemus  the  Batesian,  who,  also 
being  treasurer  of  the  Greeks,  was  banished  in  the  time 
of  the  popular  government.  He  was  a  Butadian  by  birth, 
and  of  the  line  or  family  of  the  Eteobutades.  He  received 
his  first  institutions  of  philosophy  from  Plato  the  philoso¬ 
pher.  But  afterward  entering  himself  a  scholar  to  Iso¬ 
crates  the  orator,  he  employed  his  study  about  affairs  of 
the  commonwealth.  And  to  his  care  was  committed  the 
disposal  and  management  of  the  city  stock,  and  so  he  exe¬ 
cuted  the  ofiice  of  treasurer-general  for  the  space  of  twelve 
years ;  in  which  time  there  went  through  his  hands  four- 


LIVES  OF  THE  TEN  ORATORS. 


363 


teen  thousand  talents,  or  (as  some  will  have  it)  eighteen 
thousand  six  hundred  and  fifty.  It  was  the  orator  Strato- 
cles  that  procured  him  this  preferment.  At  first  he  was 
chosen  in  his  own  name  ;  but  afterwards  he  nominated  one 
of  his  friends  to  the  office,  while  he  himself  performed  the 
duties ;  for  there  was  a  law  just  passed,  that  no  man  should 
be  chosen  treasurer  for  above  the  term  of  four  years.  But 
Lycurgus  plied  his  business  closely,  both  summer  and  win¬ 
ter,  in  the  administration  of  public  affairs.  And  being 
entrusted  to  make  provision  of  all  necessaries  for  the  wars, 
he  reformed  many  abuses  that  were  crept  into  the  com¬ 
monwealth.  He  built  four  hundred  galleys  for  the  use  of 
the  public,  and  prepared  and  fitted  a  place  for  public  ex¬ 
ercises  in  Lyceum,  and  planted  trees  before  it;  he  likewise 
built  a  wrestling-court,  and  being  made  surveyor  of  the 
theatre  of  Bacchus,  he  finished  this  building.  He  was 
likewise  of  so  great  repute  among  all  sorts,  that  he  was 
entrusted  with  two  hundred  and  fifty  talents  of  private 
citizens.  He  adorned  and  beautified  the  city  with  gold 
and  silver  vessels  of  state,  and  golden  images  of  victory. 
He  likewise  finished  many  things  that  were  as  yet  imper¬ 
fect,  as  the  dockyards  and  the  arsenal.  He  built  a  wall  also 
about  the  spacious  Panathenaic  race-course,  and  made 
level  a  piece  of  uneven  ground,  given  by  one  Dinias  to  Ly¬ 
curgus  for  the  use  of  the  city.  The  keeping  of  the  city 
was  committed  wholly  to  his  care,  and  power  to  apprehend 
malefactors,  of  whom  he  cleared  the  city  utterly  ;  so  that 
some  sophistei:s  were  wont  to  say,  that  Lycurgus  did  not 
dip  his  pen  in  ink,  but  in  blood.  And  therefore  it  was, 
that  when  Alexander  demanded  him  of  the  people,  they 
'would  not  deliver  him  up.  When  Philip  made  the  second 
'war  upon  the  Athenians,  he  was  employed  with  Demos¬ 
thenes  and  Polyeuctus  in  an  embassy  to  Peloponnesus  and 
other  cities.  He  was  always  in  great  repute  and  esteem 
with  the  Athenians,  and  looked  upon  as  a  man  of  that 


364 


LIVES  OF  THE  TEN  ORATORS. 


justice  and  integrity,  that  in  the  courts  of  judicature  his 
good  word  was  at  all  times  prevalent  on  the  behalf  of 
those  persons  for  whom  he  undertook  to  speak.  He  was 
the  author  of  several  laws ;  one  of  which  was,  that  there 
should  be  certain  comedies  played  at  the  Chytrian  solemni¬ 
ties,  and  whoever  of  the  poets  or  players  should  come  off 
victor,  he  should  thereby  be  invested  with  the  freedom  of 
the  city,  which  before  was  not  lawful ;  and  so  he  revived 
a  solemnity  which  for  want  of  encouragement  had  for 
some  time  before  been  out  of  request.  Another  of  his 
laws  was,  that  the  city  should  erect  statues  to  the  memory 
of  Aeschylus,  Sophocles,  and  Euripides  ;  and  that  their 
tragedies,  being  fairly  engrossed,  should  be  preserved  in 
the  public  consistory,  and  that  the  public  clerks  should 
read  these  copies  as  the  plays  were  acted,  that  nothing 
might  be  changed  by  the  players ;  and  that  otherwise  it 
should  be  unlawful  to  act  them.  A  third  laAV  proposed  by 
him  was,  that  no  Athenian,  nor  any  person  inhabiting  in 
Athens,  should  be  permitted  to  buy  a  captive,  who  was 
once  free,  to  be  a  slave,  without  the  consent  of  his  for¬ 
mer  master.  Further,  that  in  the  Piraeus  there  should  be 
at  least  three  circular  dances  played  to  Neptune  ;  and  that 
to  the  victor  in  the  first  should  be  given  not  less  than  ten 
minas  ;  in  the  second,  eight ;  in  the  third,  six.  Also,  that 
no  woman  should  go  to  Eleusis  in  a  coach,  lest  the  poor 
should  appear  more  despicable  than  the  rich,  and  so  be 
dejected  and  cast  down ;  and  that  whoever  should  ride  in 
a  coach  contrary  to  this  law  should  be  fined  six  thousand 
drachms.  And  when  even  his  own  wife  was  taken  in  the 
violation  of  it,  he  paid  to  the  discoverers  of  it  a  whole 
talent ;  for  which  being  afterwards  called  in  question  by 
the  people:  See  therefore,  said  he,  I  am  called  to  answer 
for  giving,  and  not  for  receiving  money. 

As  he  was  walking  one  day  in  the  streets,  he  saw  an 
officer  lay  hand  on  Xcnocrates  the  philosopher ;  and  when 


LIVES  OF  THE  TEN  ORATORS. 


365 


nothing  would  serve  his  turn  but  the  philosopher  must  to 
prison,  because  he  had  not  deposited  the  tribute  due  from 
strangers,  he  with  his  staff  struck  the  officer  on  the  head 
for  his  unmannerly  roughness  toward  a  person  of  that 
character,  and  freeing  Xenocrates,  cast  the  other  into  pris¬ 
on  in  his  stead.  And  not  many  days  after,  Xenocrates 
meeting  with  the  children  of  Lycurgus  said:  I  have  re¬ 
turned  thanks  unto  your  father  right  speedily,  my  good 
children,  for  his  friendship  towards  me,  for  I  hear  his 
kindness  commended  by  all  people  where  I  go.  He  made 
likewise  several  decrees,  in  which  he  made  use  of  the 
help  of  an  Olynthian  named  Euclides,  one  very  expert  in 
such  matters.  Though  he  was  rich  enough,  yet  he  was 
used  to  wear  the  same  coat  every  day,  both  summer  and 
winter  ;  but  he  wore  shoes  only  when  he  was  compelled  to 
do  it.  Because  he  was  not  ready  to  speak  extempore, 
he  used  to  practise  and  study  day  and  night.  And  to  the 
end  he  might  not  at  any  time  oversleep  himself  and  so 
lose  time  from  his  study,  he  used  to  cover  himself  on  his 
bed  only  with  a  sheepskin  with  the  wool  on,  and  to  lay  a 
hard  bolster  under  his  head.  When  one  reproached  him 
for  being  in  fee  with  rhetoricians  when  he  studied  his  ora¬ 
tions,  he  answered,  that,  if  a  man  would  promise  to  restore 
his  sons  better,  he  would  give  him  not  only  a  thousand 
drachms,  but  half  what  he  was  worth.  He  took  the  liber¬ 
ty  of  speaking  boldly  upon  all  occasions,  by  reason  of  his 
greatness  ;  as  when  once  the  Athenians  interrupted  him  in 
his  speaking,  he  cried  out,  O  thou  Corcyraean  whip,  how 
many  talents  art  thou  worth  ?  And  another  time,  when 
some  would  rank  Alexander  among  the  Gods,  What  man¬ 
ner  of  God,  said  he,  must  he  be,  when  all  that  go  out  of 
liis  temple  had  need  to  be  dipped  in  water  to  purify  them- 
selves  ? 

After  his  death  Menesaechmus  accusing  and  indicting 
them  by  virtue  of  an  instrument  drawn  by  Thracycles,  his 


366 


LIVES  OF  THE  TEN  ORATORS. 


sons  were  delivered  to  the  eleven  executioners  of  Justice. 
But  Demosthenes,  being  in  exile,  wrote  to  the  Athenians, 
to  let  them  know  that  they  were  wrongfully  accused,  and 
that  therefore  they  did  not  well  to  hear  their  accusers ; 
upon  which  they  recanted  what  they  had  done,  and  set 
them  at  liberty  again,  —  Democles,  who  was  Theophrastus’s 
scholar,  likewise  pleading  in  their  defence.  Lycurgus  and 
some  of  his  posterity  were  buried  publicly,  at  or  near  the 
temple  of  Minerva  Paeonia,  where  their  monuments  stand 
in  the  garden  of  Melanthius  the  philosopher,  on  which 
are  inscriptions  to  Lycurgus  and  his  children,  which  are 
yet  extant.  The  greatest  thing  he  did  while  he  lived  w^as 
his  raising  the  revenue  of  the  commons  totally  from  sixty 
talents,  as  he  found  it,  to  twelve  hundred.  When  he 
found  he  must  die,  he  was  by  his  own  appointment  carried 
into  the  temple  of  the  Mother  of  the  Gods,  and  into  the 
senate-house,  being  willing  before  his  death  to  give  an  ac¬ 
count  of  his  administration.  And  no  man  daring  to  accuse 
him  of  any  thing  except  Menesaechmus,  having  purged 
himself  from  those  calumnies  which  he  cast  upon  hihi, 
he  was  carried  home  again,  where  in  a  short  time  he 
ended  his  life.  He  was  always  accounted  honest;  his 
orations  were  commended  for  the  eloquence  they  carried 
in  them ;  and  though  he  was  often  accused,  yet  he  never 
Avas  overthrown  in  any  suit. 

He  had  three  children  by  Callisto,  the  daughter  of 
Abron,  and  sister  of  Callias,  Abron’s  son,  by  descent  a 
Batesian,  —  I  mean,  of  him  who,  when  Chaerondas  was 
magistrate,  was  paymaster  to  the  army.  Of  this  affinity 
Dinarchus  speaks  in  his  oration  against  Pastius.  He  left 
behind  him  three  sons,  Abron,  Lycurgus,  and  Lycophron ; 
of  which,  Abron  and  Lycurgus  died  without  issue,  though 
the  first,  Abron,  did  for  some  time  act  very  acceptably  and 
worthily  in  affairs  of  the  commonwealth.  Lycophron  mar¬ 
rying  Callistomacha,  the  daughter  of  Philip  of  Aexorie, 


LIVES  OF  THE  TEN  ORATORS. 


367 


begat  Callisto,  who  married  Cleombrotus  the  son  of  Dino¬ 
crates  the  Acharnian,  to  whom  she  bare  Lycophron,  who, 
being  adopted  by  his  grandfather,  died  without  issue.  He 
being  dead,  Socrates  married  Callisto,  of  whom  he  had  his 
son  Symmachus.  To  him  was  born  Aristonymus  ;  to  Aris- 
tonymus,  Charmides,  who  was  the  father  of  Philippe.  Of 
her  and  Lysander  came  Medeius,  who  also  was  an  inter¬ 
preter,  one  of  the  Eumolpids.  He  begat  two  children  of 
Timothea,  the  daughter  of  Glaucus,  viz.  Laodamia  and 
Medius,  who  were  priests  of  Neptune  Erechtheus ;  also 
Philippe  a  daughter,  who  was  afterward  priestess  of  Mi¬ 
nerva  ;  for  before,  she  was  married  to  Diodes  of  Melite,  to 
whom  she  bare  a  son  named  Diodes,  who  was  a  colonel 
of  a  regiment  of  foot.  He  married  Hediste,  the  daughter 
of  Abron,  and  of  her  begat  Philippides  and  Nicostrata, 
whom  Themistocles  the  torch-bearer,  son  of  Theophrastus, 
married,  and  by  her  had  Theophrastus  and  Diodes ;  and 
he  likewise  constituted  the  priesthood  of  Neptune  Erech¬ 
theus. 

It  is  said  that  he  penned  fifteen  orations.  He  was  often 
crowned  by  the  people,  and  had  statues  dedicated  to  him. 
His  image  in  brass  was  set  up  in  Ceramicus  by  order  of 
the  public,  in  the  year  of  Anaxicrates ;  in  whose  time  also 
it  was  ordered  that  he  and  his  eldest  son  should  be  provided 
for  with  diet  in  the  Prytaneum ;  but  he  being  dead,  Lyco¬ 
phron  his  eldest  son  was  forced  to  sue  for  that  donation. 
This  Lycurgus  also  was  used  frequently  to  plead  on  the 
account  of  sacred  things  ;  and  accused  Autolycus  the  Areo- 
pagite,  Lysicles  the  general,  Demades  the  son  of  Demeas, 
Menesaechmus,  and  many  others,  all  whom  he  caused  to 
be  condemned  as  guilty.  Diphilus  also  was  called  in  ques¬ 
tion  by  him,  for  impairing  and  diminishing  the  props 
of  the  metal  mines,  and  unjustly  making  himself  rich 
therefrom  ;  and  he  caused  him  to  be  condemned  to  die, 
according  to  the  provision  made  by  the  laws  in  that  case. 


368 


LIVES  OF  THE  TEN  ORATORS 


He  gave  out  of  his  own  stock  fifty  drachms  to  every  citi¬ 
zen,  the  sum  total  of  which  donation  amounted  to  one 
hundred  and  sixty  talents  ;  *  but  some  say  he  gave  a  mina 
of  silver  to  each.  He  likewise  accused  Aristogiton,  Leo- 
crates,  and  Autolycus  for  cowardice.  He  was  called  the 
Ibis:  .  ,  . 

The  ibis  to  Lycurgus,  to  Chaerephon  the  bat.t 

His  ancestors  derived  their  pedigree  from  Erechtheus,  the 
son  of  the  Earth  and  of  Vulcan  ;  but  he  was  nearest  to 
Lycomedes  and  Lycurgus,  whom  the  people  honored  with 
public  solemnities.  There  is  a-  succession  of  those  of  the 
race  who  were  priests  of  Neptune,  in  a  complete  table 
placed  in  the  Erechtheum,  painted  by  Ismenias  the  Chalci- 
dian  ;  in  the  same  place  stood  wooden  images  of  Lycurgus, 
and  of  his  sons,  Abron,  Lycurgus,  and  Lycophron;  made  by 
Timarchus  and  Cephisodotus,  the  sons  of  Praxiteles.  His 
son  Abron  dedicated  the  table ;  and  coming  to  the  priest¬ 
hood  by  right  of  succession,  he  resigned  to  his  brother 
Lycophron,  and  hence  he  is  painted  as  giving  a  trident. 
But, Lycurgus  had  made  a  draught  of  all  his  actions,  and 

hung  it  on  a  column  before  the  wrestling-court  built  by 
*  ♦ 

himself,  that  all  might  read  that  would ;  and  no  man  could 
accuse  him  of  any  peculation.  He  likewise  proposed  to 
the  people  to  crown  Neoptolemus,  the  son  of  x4nticles,  and 
to  dedicate  statues  to  him,  because  he  had  promised  and 
undertaken  to  cover  the  altar  of  Apollo  in  the  market  with 
gold,  according  to  the  order  of  the  oracle.  He  decreed 
honors  likewise  to  Diotimus,  the  son  of  Diopithes  of 
Euonymus,  in  the  year  when  Ctesicles  was  magistrate. 

*  This  is  one  of  the  statements  which  seem  to  fix  the  number  of  Athenian  citi¬ 
zens  in  tlie  age  of  the  Orators  at  about  20,000.  See  Boeckh’s  Public  Economy  of 
the  Athenians,  I.  Book  1,  chap.  7.  (G.) 

t  Aristoph.  Birds,  1296. 


LIVES  OF  THE  TEN  ORATORS. 


369 


YIII.  DEMOSTHENES. 

Demosthenes,  the  son  of  Demosthenes  by  Cleobule,  the 
daughter  of  Gylon,  was  a  Paeanian  by  descent.  He  was 
left  an  orphan  by  his  father,  when  he  was  but  seven  years 
old,  together  with  a  sister  of  the  age  of  five.  Being  kept 
by  his  mother  during  his  nonage,  he  went  to  school  to  Iso¬ 
crates,  say  some ;  but  the  generality  are  of  opinion  that  he 
w^as  pupil  to  Isaeus  the  Chalcidian,  who  lived  in  Athens 
and  was  Isocrates’s  scholar.  He  imitated  Thucydides  and 
Plato,  and  some  affirm  that  he  more  especially  attended  the 
school  of  Plato.  Hegesias  the  Magnesian  writes,  that  he 
entreated  his  master’s  leave  to  go  to  hear  Callistratus  the 
son  of  Empaedus,  an  Amphidnean,  a  noble  orator,  and 
sometime  commander  of  a  troop  of  horse,  who  had  dedi¬ 
cated  an  altar  to  Mercury  Agoraeos,  and  was  to  make  an 
oration  to  the  people.  And  when  he  heard  him,  he 
became  a  lover  of  oratory,  and  so  long  as  he  continued 
at  Athens,  remained  his  disciple. 

But  Callistratus  being  soon  banished  to  Thrace,  and 
Demosthenes  arrived  at  some  years  of  maturity,  he  joined 
with  Isocrates  and  Plato.  After  this,  he  took  Isaeus  into 
his  house,  and  for  the  space  of  four  years  labored  very 
hard  in  imitation  of  his  orations.  Though  Ctesibius  in 
his  book  of  philosophy  affirms  that,  by  the  help  of  Callias 
the  Syracusan,  he  got  the  orations  of  Zoilus  the  Amphi- 
polite,  and  by  the  assistance  of  Chari cles  the  Carystian 
those  also  of  Alcidamas,  and  devoted  himself  to  the  imita¬ 
tion  of  them.  When  he  came  to  age,  in  the  year  of  Timo- 
crates  *  he  called  his  tutors  and  guardians  to  account  for 
their  maladministration,  in  not  allowing  him  what  was 
fitting  and  requisite  out  of  his  estate.  And  these  tutors  or 
guardians  were  three,  Aphobus,  Therippides,  and  Demo- 
phon  (or  Demeas),  the  last  of  whom,  being  his  uncle,  he 

*  B.c.  364. 


370 


LIVES  OF  THE  TEN  ORATORS. 


charged  more  severely  than  the  other  two.  He  arrested 
each  of  them  in  an  action  of  ten  talents,  and  cast  them, 
but  did  not  exact  of  them  what  the  law  had  given  him, 
releasing  some  for  money  and  others  for  favor. 

When  Aristophon,  by  reason  of  his  age,  could  not  hold 
the  office  any  longer,  he  was  chosen  choregus,  or  overseer 
of  the  dances.  During  the  execution  of  which  office, 
Midi  as  the  Anagyrasian  striking  him  as  he  was  ordering 
the  dances  in  the  theatre,  he  sued  him  upon  it,  but  let 
fall  his  suit  upon  Midias’s  paying  him  three  thousand 
drachms. 

It  is  reported  of  him  that,  while  he  was  a  youth,  he 
,  confined  himself  to  a  den  or  cave,  and  there  studied  his 
orations,  and  shaved  half  of  his  head  that  he  might  not  be 
allured  to  divert  himself  from  it ;  and  that  he  lay  upon  a 
very  narrow  bed,  that  he  might  awake  and  rise  the  sooner. 
And  for  that  he  could  not  very  well  pronounce  the  letter 
R,  he  accustomed  himself  very  much  to  that,  that  he  might 
master  it  if  possible ;  and  using  likewise  an  unseemly 
motion  of  his  shoulder  when  he  spake  at  any  time,  he 
remedied  that  by  a  spit  (or,  as  some  say,  a  sword)  stuck  in 
the  ceiling  just  over  his  shoulder,  that  the  fear  of  being 
pricked  with  it  might  break  him  of  that  indecent  ges¬ 
ture.  They  report  of  him  further  that,  when  he  could 
declaim  pretty  well,  he  had  a  sort  of  mirror  made  as  big 
as  himself,  and  used  always  in  declaiming  to  look  in  that, 
to  the  end  that  he  might  see  and  correct  what  was  amiss. 
He  used  likewise  at  some  certain  times  to  go  down  to  the 
Phalerian  shore,  to  the  end  that,  being  accustomed  to  the 
surges  and  noise  of  the  waves,  he  might  not  be  daunted 
by  the  clamors  of  the  people,  when  he  should  at  any  time 
declaim  in  public.  And  being  naturally  short-winded,  he 
gave  Neoptolemus  a  player  ten  thousand  drachms  to  teach 
him  to  pronounce  long  sentences  in  one  breath. 

Afterwards,  betaking  himself  to  the  affairs  of  the  com- 


LIVES  OF  THE  TEN  ORATORS. 


371 


monwealth,  and  finding  the  people  divided  into  two  differ¬ 
ent  factions,  one  in  favor  of  Philip,  and  the  other  standing 
for  the  liberty  and  properties  of  the  people,  he  took  part 
with  them  that  opposed  Philip,  and  always  persuaded  the 
citizens  to  help  those  who  were  in  danger  and  trouble  by 
Philip’s  oppression ;  taking  for  his  companions  in  council 
Hyperides,  Nausicles,  Polyeuctus,  and  Diotimus  ;  and  then 
he  drew  the  Thebans,  Euboeans,  Corcyraeans,  Corinthians, 
Boeotians,  and  many  more  into  a  league  with  the  Athe¬ 
nians.  Being  in  the  assembly  one  day  and  his  memory 
failing  him,  his  oration  was  hissed ;  which  made  him  return 
home  very  heavy  and  melancholy  ;  and  being  met  by  Euno- 
mus  the  Thriasian,  an  old  man,  by  him  he  was  comforted 
and  encouraged.  But  he  was  chiefly  animated  by  Andro- 
nicus  the  player,  who  told  him  that  his  orations  were 
excellent,  but  that  he  wanted  something  of  action,  there¬ 
upon  rehearsing  certain  places  out  of  his  oration  which 
he  had  delivered  in  that  same  assemblv.  Unto  which 
Demosthenes  gave  good  ear  and  credit,  and  he  then  be¬ 
took  himself  to  Andronicus.  And  therefore,  when  he  was 
afterwards  asked  what  was  the  first  part  of  oratory,  he 
answered,  “  Action ;  ”  and  which  was  the  second,  he  re¬ 
plied,  “  Action ;  ”  and  which  was  the  third,  he  still  an¬ 
swered,  “  Action.”  Another  time,  declaiming  publicly,  and 
using  expressions  too  youthful  for  one  of  his  years  and 
gravity,  he  was  laughed  at,  and  ridiculed  by  the  comedians, 
Antiphanes  and  Timocles,  who  in  derision  used  to  repeat 
such  phrases  as  these,  as  uttered  by  him  : 

By  the  earth,  by  the  fountains,  by  the  rivers,  by  the  floods ! 

For  having  sworn  thus  in  presence  of  the  people,  he  raised 
a  tumult  about  him.  He  likewise  used  to  swear  by 
Asclepius,  and  accented  the  second  syllable  * 

through  some  mistake,  and  yet  afterwards  defended  it ;  for 

*  This  name  w  as  properly  pronounced  with  the  accent  on  the  last  8yllable/AcT/c^)7. 
fftof.  (G.) 


372 


LIVES  OF  THE  TEN  ORATORS. 


this  Asclepius,  he  said,  was  called  that  is  a  mild  God. 
This  also  often  caused  him  to  be  interrupted.  But  all 
these  things  he  reformed  in  time,  being  sometime  con¬ 
versant  with  Eubulides,  the  Milesian  philosopher.  Be¬ 
ing  on  a  time  present  at  the  Olympic  games,  and  hearing 
Lamachus  the  Myrrhinaean  sound  the  praises  of  Philip  and 
of  Alexander  the  Great,  his  son,  and  decry  the  cowardice 
of  the  Thebans  and  Olynthians,  he  stood  up  in  their  de¬ 
fence  against  him,  and  from  the  ancient  poets  he  pro¬ 
claimed  the  great  and  noble  achievements  of  the  Thebans 
and  Olynthians ;  and  so  elegantly  he  behaved  himself  in 

this  affair,  that  he  at  once  silenced  Lamachus,  and  made 

/ 

him  convey  himself  immediately  out  of  the  assembly.  And 
even  Philip  himself,  when  he  had  heard  what  harangues 
he  made  against  him,  replied,  that  if  he  had  heard  him,  he 
should  have  chosen  him  general  in  the  war  against  himself. 
He  was  used  to  compare  Demosthenes’s  orations  to  soldiers, 
for  the  force  they  carried  along  with  them ;  but  the  ora¬ 
tions  of  Isocrates  to  fencers,  because  of  the  theatrical 
delight  that  accompanied  them.' 

Being  about  the  age  of  seven  and  thirty,  reckoning  from 
Dexitheus  to  Callimachus,*  —  in  whose  time  the  Olynthians 
sent  to  beg  aid  of  the  Athenians  against  Philip,  who  then 
made  war  upon  them,  —  he  persuaded  them  to  answer  the 
Olynthians’  request ;  but  in  the  following  year,  in  which 
Plato  died,-]*  Philip  overthrew  and  destroyed  the  Olyn¬ 
thians.  Xenophon  also,  the  scholar  of  Socrates,  had  some 
knowledge  of  Demosthenes,  either  at  his  first  rise,  or  at 
least  when  he  was  most  famous  and  flourishing ;  for  he 
wrote  the  Acts  of  the  Greeks,  as  touching  what  passed  at 
the  battle  of  Mantinea,  in  the  year  of  Chariclides  ;  X  our 
Demosthenes  having  sometime  before  overthrown  his  guar¬ 
dians  in  a  suit  he  had  commenced  against  them,  in  the 
year  of  Timocrates.  When  Aeschines,  being  condemned, 
*  B.  c.  385-384  to  349-348.  t  b.c.  348-847.  t  c.  363-362. 


LIVES  OF  THE  TEN  ORATORS. 


373 


fled  from  Athens.  Demosthenes  hearing  of  it  took  horse 
and  rode  after  him ;  which  Aeschines  understanding,  and 
fearing  to  be  apprehended  again,  he  came  out  to  meet  De¬ 
mosthenes,  and  fell  at  his  feet,  covered  his  face,  and  begged 
his  mercy ;  upon  which  Demosthenes  bid  him  stand  up, 
be  assured  of  his  favor,  and  as  a  pledge  of  it,  gave  him  a 
talent  of  silver.  He  advised  the  people  to  maintain  a 
company  of  mercenary  soldiers  in  Thasos,  and  thither 
sailed  himself  as  captain  of  the  galleys.  Another  time, 
being  entrusted  to  buy  corn,  he  was  accused  of  defrauding 
the  city,  but  cleared  himself  of  the  accusation  and  was 
acquitted.  When  Philip  had  seized  upon  Elatea,  Demos¬ 
thenes  with  others  went  to  the  war  of  Chaeronea,  where  he 
is  said  to  have  deserted  his  colors  ;  and  flying  away,  a  bram¬ 
ble  caught  hold  of  his  vest  behind,  when  turning  about  in 
haste,  thinking  an  enemy  had  overtaken  him,  he  cried  out, 
Save  my  life,  and  say  what  shall  be  my  ransom.  On  his 
buckler  he  had  engraven  for  his  motto.  To  Good  Fortune. 
And  it  was  he  that  made  the  oration  at  the  funerals  of 
such  as  died  in  that  battle. 

After  these  things,  he  bent  his  whole  care  and  study  for 
the  reparation  of  the  city  and  wall ;  and  being  chosen 
commissary  for  repairing  the  walls,  besides  what  money 
he  expended  out  the  city  stock,  he  laid  out  of  his  own  at 
least  a  hundred  minas.  And  besides  this,  he  gave  ten 
thousand  drachms  to  the  festival  fund ;  and  taking  ship, 
he  sailed  from  coast  to  coast  to  collect  money  of  the  allies  ; 
for  which  he  was  often  by  Demotelus,  Aristonicus,  and 
Ilyperides  crowned  with  golden  crowns,  and  afterwards 
by  Ctesiphon.  Which  last  decree  had  like  to  have  been 
retracted,  Diodotus  and  Aeschines  endeavoring  to  prove  it 
to  be  contrary  to  the  laws ;  but  he  defended  himself  so 
well  against  their  allegations,  that  he  overcame  all  diflicul- 
ties,  his  enemies  not  having  the  fifth  part  of  the  votes  of 
the  judges. 


374 


LIVES  OF  THE  TEN  ORATORS. 


After  this,  when  Alexander  the  Great 'made  his  expedi¬ 
tion  into  Asia,  and  Harpalus  fled  to  Athens  with  a  great 
sum  of  money,  at  flrst  he  would  not  let  him  be  entertained, 
but  afterwards,  Harpalus  being  landed  and  having  given 
him  a  thousand  darics  he  was  of  another  mind ;  and  when 
the  Athenians  determined  to  deliver  Harpalus  up  to  Anti¬ 
pater,  he  opposed  it,  proposing  to  deposit  the  money  in 
the  Citadel,  still  without  declaring  the  amount  to  the  people. 
Thereupon  Harpalus  declared  that  he  had  brought  with 
him  from  Asia  seven  hundred  talents,  and  that  this  sum  had 
been  deposited  in  the  Citadel ;  but  only  three  hundred  and 
fifty  or  a  little  more  could  be  found,  as  Philochorus  relates. 
But  when  Harpalus  broke  out  of  the  prison  wherein  he 
was  kept  till  some  person  should  come  from  Alexander, 
and  was  escaped  into  Crete,  —  or,  as  some  will  have  it, 
into  Taenarum  in  Laconia,  —  Demosthenes  was  accused 
that  he  had  received  from  him  a  sum  of  money,  and  that 
therefore  he  had  not  given  a  true  account  of  the  sum  de¬ 
livered  to  him,  nor  had  impeached  the  negligence  of  the 
keepers.  So  he  was  judicially  cited  by  Hyperides,  Py- 
theus,  Menesaechmus,  Himeraeus,  and  Patrocles,  who 
prosecuted  him  so  severely  as  to  cause  him  to  be  con¬ 
demned  in  the  court  of  Areopagus  ;  and  being  condemned, 
he  went  into  exile,  not  being  able  to  pay  fivefold ;  for  he 
was  accused  of  receiving  thirty  talents.  Others  say,  that 
he  would  not  run  the  risk  of  a  trial,  but  went  into  banish¬ 
ment  before  the  day  came.  After  this  tempest  was  over, 
when  the  Athenians  sent  Polyeuctus  to  the  republic  of 
Arcadia  to  draw  them^  off  from  the  alliance  with  the  Mace¬ 
donians,  he  not  succeeding,  Demosthenes  appeared  to 
second  him,  where  he  reasoned  so  effectually  that  he  easily 
prevailed.  Which  procured  him  so  much  credit  and  esteem, 
that  after  some  time  a  galley  was  dispatched  to  call  him 
home  again.  And  the  Athenians  decreed  that,  whereas  he 
owed  the  state  thirty  talents,  as  a  fine  laid  on  him  for  the 


LIVES  OF  THE  TEN  OKATORS. 


375 


misdemeanor  he  was  accused  of,  he  should  be  excused  for 
only  building  an  altar  to  Jupiter  Servator  in  the  Piraeus ; 
which  decree  was  first  proposed  by  Demon  his  near  kins¬ 
man.  This  being  agreed  on,  he  returned  to  the  administra¬ 
tion  of  affairs  in  the  commonwealth  again. 

But  when  Antipater  was  blocked  up  in  Lamia,  and  the 
Athenians  offered  sacrifices  for  the  happy  news,  he  hap¬ 
pened,  being  talking  with  Agesistratus,  one  of  his  intimate 
friends,  to  say,  that  his  judgment  concerning  the  state  of 
affairs  did  not  jump  with  other  men’s,  for  that  he  knew 
the  Greeks  were  brisk  and  ready  enough  to  run  a  short 
course  but  not  to  hold  on  a  long  race.  When  iVntipater 
had  taken  Pharsalus,  and  threatened  to  besiege  Athens  it¬ 
self  if  they  refused  to  deliver  up  such  orators  as  had  de¬ 
claimed  against  him,  Demosthenes,  suspecting  himself  to 
be  one  of  the  number,  left  the  city,  and  fled  first  into 
Aegina,  that  he  might  take  sanctuary  in  the  temple  of 
Aeacus ;  but  being  afraid  to  trust  himself  long  there,  he 
went  over  to  Calauria ;  and  when  the  Athenians  had  de¬ 
creed  to  deliver  up  those  orators,  and  him  especially  as  one 
of  them,  he  continued  a  suppliant  in  the  temple  of  Nep¬ 
tune.  When  Archias  came  thither,  —  who,  from  his  office 
of  pursuing  fugitives,  was  called  Phygadotheres  and  was 
the  scholar  of  Anaximines  the  orator,  —  when  he,  I  say, 
came  to  him,  and  persuaded  him  to  go  with  him,  telling 
him  that  no  doubt  he  should  be  received  by  Antipater  as  a 
friend,  he  replied :  When  you  played  a  part  in  a  tragedy, 
you  could  not  persuade  me  to  believe  you  the  person  you 
represented ;  no  more  shall  you  now  persuade  me  by  your 
counsel.  And  when  Archias  endeavored  to  force  him 
thence,  the  townsmen  would  not  suffer  it.  And  Demos¬ 
thenes  told  them,  that  he  did  not  flee  to  Calauria  to  save 
his  life,  but  that  he  might  convince  the  Macedonians  of 
their  violence  committed  even  against  the  Gods  themselves. 
And  with  that  he  called  for  a  writing-table  ;  and  if  we  may 


376 


LIVES  OF  THE  TEN  OEATORS. 


credit  Demetrius  the  Magnesian,  on  that  he  wrote  a  distich, 
which  afterwards  the  Athenians  caused  to  be  affixed  to  his 
statue  ;  and  it  was  to  this  purpose  : 

Hadst  thou,  Demosthenes,  an  outward  force 
Great  as  thy  inward  magnanimity, 

Greece  should  not  wear  the  Macedonian  yoke. 

This  statue,  made  by  Polyeuctus,  is  placed  near  the 
cloister  where  the  altar  of  the  twelve  Gods  is  erected. 
Some  say  this  writing  was  found :  “  Demosthenes  to  An¬ 
tipater,  Greeting.”  Philochorus  tells  us  that  he  died  by 
drinking  of  poison  ;  and  Satyrus  the  historiographer  will 
have  it,  that  the  pen  was  poisoned  with  which  he  wrote  his 
epistle,  and  putting  it  into  his  mouth,  soon  after  he  tasted 
it  he  died.  Eratosthenes  is  of  another  opinion,  that  being 
in  continual  fear  of  the  Macedonians,  he  wore  a  poisoned 
bracelet  on  his  arms.  Others  say  again,  that  he  died  with 
holding  his  breath ;  and  others,  lastly,  say  that  he  carried 
strong  poison  in  his  signet.  He  lived  to  the  age  of  seventy, 
according  to  those  who  give  the  highest  number,  —  of 
sixty-seven,  according  to  other  statements.  And  he  was  in 
public  life  two  and  twenty  years. 

When  King  Philip  was  dead,  he  appeared  publicly  in  a 
glorious  robe  or  mantle,  as  rejoicing  for  his  death,  though 
he  but  just  before  mourned  for  his  daughter.  He  assisted 
the  Thebans  likewise  against  Alexander,  and  animated  all 
the  other  Greeks.  So  that  when  Alexander  had  conquered 
Thebes,  he  demanded  Demosthenes  of  the  Athenians, 
threatening  them  if  they  refused  to  deliver  him.  When  he 
went  against  Persia,  demanding  ships  of  the  Athenians,  De¬ 
mosthenes  opposed  it,  saying,  who  can  assure  us  that  he  will 
not  use  those  ships  we  should  send  him  against  ourselves  ? 

He  left  behind  him  two  sons  by  one  wife,  the  daughter 
of  one  Heliodorus,  a  principal  citizen.  He  had  but  one 
daughter,  who  died  unmarried,  being  but  a  child.  A  sister 
too  he  had,  who  married  with  Laches  of  Leuconoe,  his 


LIVES  OF  THE  TEN  ORATOES. 


377 


kinsman,  and  to  him  bore  Demochares,  who  proved  inferioi 
to  none  in  his  time  for  eloquence,  conduct,  and  courage. 
His  statue  is  still  standing  in  the  Prytaneum,  the  first  on 
the  right  as  you  approach  the  altar,  clothed  with  a  mantle 
and  girt  with  a  sword,  because  in  this  habit  he  delivered 
an  oration  to  the  people,  when  Antipater  demanded  of 
them  their  orators. 

Afterwards,  in  process  of  time,  the  Athenians  decreed 
nourishment  to  be  given  to  the  kindred  of  Demosthenes  in 
the  Prytaneum,  and  likewise  set  up  a  statue  to  his  memory, 
when  he  was  dead,  in  the  market,  in  the  year  of  Gorgias,* 
which  honors  were  paid  him  at  the  request  of  Demochares 
his  sister’s  son.  And  ten  years  after.  Laches,  the  son  of 
Demochares  of  Leuconoe,  in  the  year  of  Pytharatus,  re¬ 
quired  the  same  honor  for  himself,  that  his  statue  should 
be  set  up  iq  the  market,  and  that  both  he  and  the  eldest 
of  his  line  for  the  future  should  have  their  allowance  in 
the  Prytaneum,  and  the  highest  room  at  all  public  shows. 
These  decrees  concerning  both  of  them  are  engrossed,  and 
to  be  found  among  the  statute  laws.  The  statue  of  De¬ 
mochares,  of  which  we  have  spoken  before,  was  afterwards 
removed  out  of  the  market  into  the  Prytaneum. 

There  are  extant  sixty-five  orations  which  are  truly  his. 
Some  report  of  him,  that  he  lived  a  very  dissolute  and 
vicious  life,  appearing  often  in  women’s  apparel,  and  being 
frequently  conversant  at  masks  and  revellings,  whence  he 
was  surnamed  Batalus ;  though  others  say,  that  this  was  a 
pet  name  given  him  by  his  nurse,  and  that  from  this  he  was 
called  Batalus  in  derision.  Diogenes  the  Cynic  espying 
him  one  day  in  a  victualling-house,  he  was  very  much 
ashamed,  and  to  shun  him,  went  to  Avithdraw ;  but  Dioge¬ 
nes  called  after  him,  and  told  him,  The  more  you  shrink 
inward,  the  more  you  will  be  in  the  tavern.  The  same 
Diogenes  once  upon  the  banter  said  of  him,  that  in  his 

*  B.c  280. 


378 


LIVES  OF  THE  TEN  ORATORS. 


orations  he  was  a  Scythian’,  but  in  war  a  delicate  nice 
citizen.  He  was  one  of  them  who  received  gold  of  Ephi- 
altes,  one  of  the  popular  orators,  who,^  being  sent  in  an 
embassy  to  the  king  of  Persia,  took  money  privily,  and 
distributed  it  among  the  orators  of  Athens,  that  they  might 
use  their  utmost  endeavors  to  kindle  and  inflame  the  war 
against  Philip  ;  and  it  is  said  of  Demosthenes,  that  he  for 
his  part  had  at  once  three  thousand  darics  of  the  king. 
He  apprehended  one  Anaxilas  of  Oreus,  who  had  been 
his  friend,  and  caused  him  to  be  tortured  for  a  spy;  and 
when  he  would  confess  nothing,  he  procured  a  decree  that 
he  should  be  delivered  to  the  eleven  executioners. 

When  once  at  a  meeting  of  the  Athenians  they  would 
not  suffer  him  to  speak,  he  told  them  he  had  but  a  short 
story  to  tell  them.  Upon  which  all  being  silent,  thus  he 
began :  A  certain  youth,  said  he,  hired  an  ass  in  summer 
time,  to  go  from  hence  to  Megara.  About  noon,  when  the 
sun  was  very  hot,  and  both  he  that  hired  the  ass  and  the 
owner  were  desirous  of  sitting  in  the  shade  of  the  ass, 
they  each  thrust  the  other  away,  —  the  owner  arguing  that 
he  let  him  only  his  ass  and  not  the  shadow,  and  the  other 
replying  that,  since  he  had  hired  the  ass,  all  that  belonged 
to  him  was  at  his  dispose.  Having  said  thus,  he  seemed 
to  go  his  way.  But  the  Athenians  willing  now  to  hear  his 
story  out,  called  him  back,  and  desired  him  to  proceed. 
To  whom  he  replied :  How  comes  it  to  pass  that  ye  are  so 
desirous  of  hearing  a  story  of  the  shadow  of  an  ass,  and 
refuse  to  give  ear  to  matters  of  greater  moment]  Polus 
the  player  boasting  to  him  that  he  had  gotten  a  whole 
talent  by  playing  but  two  days,  he  answered,  and  I  have 
gotten  five  talents  by  being  silent  but  one  day.  One  day 
his  voice  failing  him  when  he  was  declaiming  publicly, 
being  hissed,  he  cried  out  to  the  people,  saying.  Ye  are  to 
judge  of  players,  indeed,  by  theh  voice,  but  of  orators  by 
the  gravity  of  their  sentences. 


LIVES  OF  THE  TEN  ORATORS. 


379 


Epicles  upbraiding  him  for  his  premeditating  what  he 
was  to  say,  he  replied,  I  should  be  ashamed  to  speak  what 
comes  uppermost  to  so  great  an  assembly.  They  say  of 
him  that  he  never  put  out  his  lamp  —  that  is,  never  ceased 
polishing  his  orations  —  until  he  was  fifty  years  old.  He 
says  of  himself,  that  he  drank  always  fair  water.  Lysias 
the  orator  was  acquainted  with  him  ;  ‘  and  Isocrates  knew 
him  concerned  in  the  management  of  public  affairs  till  the 
battle  of  Chaeronea  ;  as  also  some  of  the  Socratical  sect. 
[He  delivered  most  of  his  orations  extempore.  Nature  hav¬ 
ing  well  qualified  him  for  it.]*  The  first  that  proposed 
the  crowning  him  with  a  coronet  of  gold  was  x4ristonicus, 
the  son  of  Nicophanes,  the  Anagyrasian ;  though  Diondas 
‘interposed  with  an  indictment. 


IX.  HYPERIDES. 

Hyperides  was  son  of  Glaucippus,  and  grandson  of 
Dionysius,  of  the  borough  of  Colyttus.  He  had  a  son, 
who  bare  the  same  name  with  his  father  Glaucippus,  an 
orator,  who  wrote  many  orations,  and  begat  a  son  named 
Alphinous.  At  the  same  time  with  Lycurgus,  he  had  been 
a  scholar  of  the  philosopher  Plato  and  of  the  orator  Iso- 
ciates.  In  Athens  his  concern  in  the  commonwealth  was 
at  that  time  when  Alexander  accosted  Greece,  whom  he 
vigorously  opposed  in  his  demands  made  of  the  Athenians 
for  the  generals  as  well  as  for  galleys.  He  advised  the 
people  not  to  discharge  the  garrison  of  Taenarum,  and  this 
he  did  for  the  sake  of  a  friend  of  his,  Chares,  who  was 
commander  of  it.  At  first  he  used  to  plead  causes  for  a 
fee.  He  was  suspected  to  have  received  part  of  the  money 
which  Ephialtes  brought  out  of  Persia,  and  was  chosen 
to  maintain  a  galley,  and  was  sent  to  assist  the  Byzantines, 

*  This  is  supposed  to  have  been  added  by  some  other  hand,  because  a  contrary 
sentence  is  given  of  him  before. 


380 


LIVES  OF  THE  TEN  ORATORS. 


when  Philip  was  besieging  their  city.  Nevertheless,  in 
the  same  year  he  took  the  charge  of  defraying  the  expense 
of  the  solemn  dances,  whereas  the  rest  of  the  captains 
were  exempt  from  all  such  public  burdens  for  that  year. 
He  obtained  a  decree  for  some  honors  to  be  paid  to  De¬ 
mosthenes  ;  and  when  that  decree  was  indicted  at  the  in¬ 
stance  of  Diondas,  as  being  contrary  to  the  laws,  he,  being 
called  in  question  upon  it,  cleared  himself.  He  did  not 
continue  his  friendship  with  Demosthenes,  Lysicles,  and 
Lycurgus  to  the  last ;  for,  Lysicles  and  Lycurgus  being 
dead,  and  Demosthenes  being  accused  of  having  received 
money  of  Harpalus,  he,  among  all  the  rest,  was  pitched 
upon,  as  the  only  person  who  w^as  not  corrupted  wdth 
bribery,  to  draw  up  his  indictment,  which  he  accordingly  did. 
Being  once  accused  at  the  instance  of  Aristogiton  of  pub¬ 
lishing  acts  contrary  to  the  laws  after  the  battle  of  Chae- 
ronea,  —  that  all  foreign  inhabitants  of  Athens  should  be 
accounted  citizens,  that  slaves  should  be  made  free,  that 
all  sacred  things,  children,  and  women  should  be  confined 
to  the  Piraeus,  —  he  cleared  himself  of  all  and  was  ac¬ 
quitted.  And  being  blamed  by  some,  who  wondered  how 
he  could  be  ignorant  of  the  many  laws  that  were  directly 
repugnant  to  those  decrees,  he  answered,  that  the  arms  of 
the  Macedonians  darkened  his  sight,  and  it  was  not  he  but 
the  battle  of  Chaeronea  that  made  that  decree.  But  Philip, 
being  affrighted  at  somewhat,  gave  leave  to  carry  away 
their  dead  out  of  the  field,  which  before  he  had  denied  to 
the  heralds  from  Lebadea. 

After  this,  at  the  overthrow  at  Crannon,  being  demanded 
by  Antipater,  and  the  people  being  resolved  to  deliver 
him  up,  he  fled  out  of  the  city  with  others  who  were  under 
the  same  condemnation  to  Aegina ;  where  meeting  with 
Demosthenes,  he  excused  himself  for  the  breach  of  friend¬ 
ship  between  them.  Going  from  thence,  he  was  appre¬ 
hended  by  Archias,  surnamed  Phygadotheres,  by  country  a 


LIVES  OF  THE  TEN  ORATORS. 


381 


Tburian,  formerly  a  player,  but  at  that  time  in  tbe  service 
of  Antipater ;  by  tbis  man^  I  say,  be  was  apprehended, 
even  in  tbe  very  temple  of  Neptune,  tbougb  be  grasped 
tbe  image  of  tbat  God  in  bis  arms.  He  was  brought  be¬ 
fore  Antipater,  who  was  then  at  Corinth  ;  where  being 
put  upon  the  rack,  he  bit  out  bis  tongue,  because  he  would 
not  divulge  tbe  secrets  of  his  country,  and  so  died,  on  the 
ninth  day  of  October.  Hermippus  tells  us  that,  as  be  went 
into  Macedonia,  his  tongue  was  cut  out  and  bis  body  cast 
forth  unburied  ;  but  Alphinous  bis  cousin-german  (or,  ac¬ 
cording  to  the  opinion  of  others,  his  grandson,  by  his  son 
Glaucippus)  obtained  leave,  by  means  of  one  Philopithes 
a  physician,  to  take  up  his  body,  which  he  burnt,  and  car¬ 
ried  the  ashes  to  Athens  to  his  kinsfolk  there,  contrary  to 
the  edicts  both  of  the  Athenians  and  Macedonians,  which 
not  only  banished  them,  but  likewise  forbade  the  burial  of 
them  anywhere  in  their  own  country.  Others  say,  that 
he  was  carried  to  Cleonae  with  others,'  and  there  died, 
having  his  tongue  cut  out,  as  above  ;  however,  his  relations 
and  friends  took  his  bones,  when  his  body  was  burned,  and 
buried  them  among  his  ancestors  before  the  gate  Hippades, 
as  Heliodorus  gives  us  the  relation  in  his  Third  Book  of 
Monuments.  His  monument  is  now  altogether  unknown 
and  lost,  being  thrown  down  with  age  and  long  standing. 

He  is  said  to  have  excelled  all  others  in  his  way  of  de¬ 
livering  himself  in  his  orations  to  the  people.  And  there 
are  some  who  prefer  him  even  to  Demosthenes  himself. 
There  are  seventy-seven  orations  which  bear  his  name,  of 
w'hich  only  two  and  fifty  are  genuine  and  truly  his.  He 
was  much  given  to  .venery,  insomuch  that  he  turned  his 
son  out  of  doors,  to  entertain  that  famous  courtesan  Myr- 
rhina.  In  Piraeus  he  had  another,  whose  name  was  Aris- 
tagora  ;  and  at  Eleusis,  tvhere  part  of  his  estate  lay,  he 
kept  another,  one  Philte  a  Theban,  whom  he  ransomed 
for  twenty  minas.  His  usual  walk  was  in  the  fish-market. 


382 


LIVES  OF  THE  TEN  ORATORS. 


It  is  thought  that  he  was  accused  of  impiety  with  one 
Phryne,  a' courtesan  likewise,  and  so  was  sought  after  to  be 
apprehended,  as  he  himself  seems  to  intimate  in  the  be¬ 
ginning  of  an  oration ;  and  it  is  said,  that  when  sentence 
was  just  ready  to  be  passed  upon  her,  he  produced  her  in 
court,  opened  her  clothes  before,  and  discovered  her  naked 
breasts,  which  were  so  very  white,  that  for  her  beauty’s 
sake  the  judges  acquitted  her.  He  at  leisure  times  drew 
up  several  declamations  against  Demosthenes,  which  were 
thus  discovered :  Hyperides  being  sick,  Demosthenes  came 
one  day  to  visit  him,  and  caught  him  with  a  book  in  his 
hand  written  against  him ;  at  which  seeming  somewhat 
displeased,  Hyperides  told  him  :  This  book  shall  hurt  no 
man  that  is  my  friend ;  but  as  a  curb,  it  may  serve  to  re¬ 
strain  my  enemy  from  offering  me  any  injury.  He  obtained 
a  decree  of  some  honors  to  be  paid  to  lolas,  who  gave  the 
poisoned  cup  to  Alexander.  He  joined  with  Leosthenes 
in  the  Lamian  war,  and  made  an  admirable  oration  at  the 
funerals  of  those  who  lost  their  lives  therein. 

When  Philip  was  prepared  to  embark  for  Euboea,  and 
the  Athenians  heard  the  news  of  it  with  no  little  conster¬ 
nation,  Hyperides  in  a  very  short  time,  by  the  voluntary 
contributions  of  the  citizens,  fitted  out  forty  sail,  and  was 
the  first  that  set  an  example,  by  sending  out  two  galleys, 
one  for  himself  and  another  for  his  son,  at  his  own 
charge. 

When  there  was  a  controversy  between  the  Delians  and 
the  Athenians,  who  should  have  the  pre-eminence  in  the 
temple  at  Delos  ;  Aeschines  being  chosen  on  the  behalf  of 
the  Athenians  for  their  advocate,  the  Areopagites  refused 
to  ratify  the  choice  and  elected  Hj^perides  ;  and  his  ora¬ 
tion  is  yet  extant,  and  bears  the  name  of  the  Deliac  ora¬ 
tion.*  # 

He  likewise  went  ambassador  to  Phodes ;  where  meet- 

*  See  Demosthenes  on  the  Crown,  p.  221,  27. 


LIVES  OF  THE  TEN  ORATORS. 


383 


ing  other  ambassadors  from  Antipater,  who  commended 
their  master  very  highly  for  his  goodness  and  virtue,  We 
know,  replied  he,  that  Antipater  is  good,  but  we  have  no 
need  of  a  good  master  at  present. 

It  is  said  of  him,  that  he  never  affected  much  action  in 
his  orations  to  the  people,  his  chief  aim  being  to  lay  down 
the  matter  plainly,  and  make  the  case  as  obvious  to  the 
judges  as  he  could. 

He  was  sent  likewise  to  the  Eleans,  to  plead  the  cause  of 
Callippus  the  fencer,  who  was  accused  of  carrying  away 
the  prize  at  the  public  games  unfairly ;  in  which  cause  he 
got  the  better.  But  when  he  opposed  the  sentence  of  pay¬ 
ing  honors  to  Phocion,  obtained  by  Midias  the  son  of  Mi- 
dias  the  Anagyrasian,  he  was  in  that  cause  overthrown. 
This  cause  was  pleaded  on  the  twenty-fourth  day  of  May, 
in  the  year  when  Xenius  was  magistrate. 


X.  DINAKCHUS. 

Dinarchus,  the  son  of  Socrates  or  Sostratus,  —  born,  as 
some  think,  at  xlthens,  but  according  to  others,  at  Corinth, 
—  came  to  Athens  very  young,  and  there  took  up  his 
dwelling,  at  that  time  when  Alexander  made  his  expedition 
into  Asia.  He  used  to  hear  Theophrastus,  who  succeeded 
Aristotle  in  his  school.  He  was  frequently  conversant  with 
Demetrius  the  Phalerian  too.  He  betook  himself  more 
especially  to  the  affairs  of  the  commonwealth  after  the 
death  of  Antipater,  when  some  of  the  orators  were  killed 
and  others  banished.  Having  contracted  friendship  with 
Cassander,  he  became  in  a  short  time  vastly  rich,  by  exact¬ 
ing  great  rates  for  his  orations  of  those  for  whom  he  wrote 
them.  He  opposed  himself  to  the  greatest  and  most  noble 
orators  of  his  time,  not  by  being  overforward  to  declaim 
publicly,  —  for  his  faculty  did  not  lie  that  way,  —  but  by 


384  LIVES  OF  THE  TEN  ORATORS. 

composing  orations  for  their  adversaries.  And  when  Har- 
palus  had  broken  out  of  prison,  he  wrote  several  orations, 
which  he  gave  to  their  accusers  to  pronounce  against  those 
that  were  suspected  to  have  taken  bribes  of  him. 

Some  time  after,  being  accused  of  a  conspiracy  with 
Antipater  and  Cassander  about  the  matter  of  Munychia, 
when  it  was  surprised  by  Antigonus  and  Demetrius,  who 
put  a  garrison  into  it,  in  the  year  of  Anaxicrates,*  he  turned 
the  greatest  part  of  his  estate  into  money,  and  fled  to  Chal- 
cis,  where  he  lived  in  exile  about  fifteen  years,  and  in¬ 
creased  his  stock ;  but  afterwards,  by  the  mediation  of 
Theophrastus,  he  and  some  other  banished  persons  returned 
to  Athens.  Then  he  took  up  his  abode  in  the  house  of 
one  Proxenus,  his  intimate  friend  ;  where,  being  very  aged 
and  withal  dim- sighted,  he  lost  his  gold.  And  because 
Proxenus  refused  to  make  inquiry  after  the  thief,  he  appre¬ 
hended  him ;  and  this  was  the  first  time  that  ever  he  ap¬ 
peared  in  court.  That  oration  against  Proxenus  is  extant ; 
and  there  are  sixty-four  that  bear  his  name,  whereof  some 
are  believed  to  be  Aristogiton’s.  He  imitated  Hyperides  ; 
or,  as  some  incline  to  judge,  rather  Demosthenes,  because 
of  that  vigor  and  force  to  move  the  affections,  and  the 
rhetorical  ornaments  that  are  evident  in  his  style. 


DECREES  PROPOSED  TO  THE  ATHENIANS. 

I. 

Demochares,  the  son  of  Laches  of  Leuconoe,  requires 
that  a  statue  of  brass  be  set  up  for  Demosthenes,  the  son 
of  Demosthenes  the  Paeanian,  in  the  market-place,  as 


*  B.c.  807. 


LIVES  OF  THE  TEN  ORATORS. 


385 


likewise  tliat  provision  of  diet  be  made  in  the  Prytaneum 
for  himself  and  the  eldest  of  his  progeny  successively,  and 
the  chief  seat  in  all  public  shows  ;  for  that  he  had  done 
many  good  offices  for  the  Athenians,  had  on  most  occasions 
been  a  good  counsellor,  and  had  spent  his  patrimony  in  the 
commonwealth  ;  had  expended  eight  talents  for  the  fitting 
out  and  maintenance  of  one  galley,  when  they  delivered 
Euboea,  another,  when  Cephisodorus  sailed  into  the  Plelles- 
pont,  and  a  third,  when  Chares  and  Phocion  were  commis¬ 
sioned  by  the  people  to  go  captains  to  Byzantium ;  that  he 
at  his  own  charge  had  redeemed  many  who  had  been  taken 
prisoners  by  Philip  at  Pydna,  Methone,  and  Olynthus  ;  that 
himself  had  maintained  a  choir  of  men,  when  no  provision 
had  been  made  therefor  through  the  neglect  of  the  tribe 
Pandionis  ;  that  he  had  furnished  many  indigent  citizens  ' 
with  arms  ;  that  being  chosen  by  the  people  to  oversee  the 
city  works,  he  had  laid  out  three  talents  of  his  own  stock 
towards  the  repairing  of  the  walls,  besides  all  that  he 
gave  for  making  two  trenches  about  the  Piraeus ;  that 
after  the  battle  of  Chaeronea  he  deposited  one  talent  for 
the  use  of  the  public,  and  after  that,  another  to  buy  corn 
in  time  of  scarcity  and  want;  that  by  his  beneficence, 
wholesome  counsels  and  effectual  persuasions,  he  allured 
the  Thebans,  Euboeans,  Corinthians,  Megarians,  Achaeans, 
Locrians,  Byzantines,  and  Messenians  to  a  league  with  the 
Athenians ;  that  he  raised  an  army  of  ten  thousand  foot 
and  a  thousand  horse,  and  contracted  plenty  to  the  people 
and  their  allies  ;  that  being  ambassador,  he  had  persuaded 
the  allies  to  the  contribution  of  above  five  hundred  talents  ; 
that  in  the  same  quality,  by  his  influence  and  the  free  gift 
of  money,  he  obtained  of  the  Peloponnesians  that  they 
should  not  send  aid  to  Alexander  against  the  Thebans  ; 
and  in  consideration  of  many  other  good  offices  performed 
by  him,  either  as  to  his  counsels,  or  his  personal  administra- 


386 


LIVES  OF  THE  TEN  ORATORS. 


tion  of  affairs  in  the  commonwealth,  in  which,  and  in 
defending  the  rights  and  liberties  of  the  people,  no  man  in 
his  time  had  done  more  or  deserved  better ;  and  in  regard 
of  his  sufferings  when  the  commonwealth  was  ruined, 
being  banished  by  the  insolence  of  the  oligarchy,  and  at 
last  dying  at  Calauria  for  his  good-will  to  the  public,  there 
being  soldiers  sent  from  Antipater  to  apprehend  him  ;  and 
that  notwithstanding  his  being  in  the  hands  of  his  enemies, 
in  so  great  and  imminent  danger,  his  hearty  affection  to  his 
countrymen  was  still  the  same,  insomuch  that  he  never  to 
the  last  offered  any  unworthy  thing  to  the  injury  of  his 
people. 


II. 

In  the  magistracy  of  Pytharatiis,*  Laches,  the  son  of 
Demochares  of  Leuconoe  requires  of  the  Athenian  senate 
that  a  statue  of  brass  be  set  up  for  Demochares,  the  son 
of  Laches  of  Leuconoe,  in  the  market-place,  and  table  and 
diet  in  the  Prytaneum  for  himself  and  the  eldest  of  his 
progeny  successively,  and  the  first  seat  at  all  public  shows  ; 
for  that  he  had  always  been  a  benefactor  and  good  coun¬ 
sellor  to  the  people,  and  had  done  these  and  the  like  good 
offices  to  the  public :  he  had  gone  in  embassies  in  his  own 
person ;  had  proposed  and  carried  in  bills  relating  to  his 
embassage ;  had  been  chief  manager  of  public  matters  ; 
had  repaired  the  walls,  prepared  arms  and  machines ; 
had  fortified  the  city  in  the  time  of  the  four  years’  war,  and 
composed  a  peace,  truce,  and  alliance  with  the  Boeotians; 
for  which  things  he  was  banished  by  those  who  overturned 
and  usurped  the  government ;  —  and  being  called  home 
again  by  a  decree  of  the  people,  in  the  year  of  Diodes, 
he  had  contracted  the  administration,  sparing  the  public 
funds ;  and  going  in  embassage  to  Lysimachus,  he  had  at 


*  B.c.  269. 


LIVES  OF  THE  TEN  ORATORS. 


387 


one  time  gained  thirty,  and  at  another  time  a  hundred 
talents  of  silver,  for  the  use  of  the  public  ;  he  had  moved 
the  people  to  send  an  embassage  to  Ptolemy,  by  which 
means  the  people  got  fifty  talents  ;  he  went  ambassador 
to  Antipater,  and  by  that  got  twenty  talents,  and  brought 
it  to  Eleusis  to  the  people,  —  all  which  measures  he  per¬ 
suaded  the  people  to  adopt  while  he  himself  carried  them 
out ;  furthermore,  he  was  banished  for  his  love  for  the 
commonwealth,  and  would  never  take  part  with  usurpers 
against  the  popular  government ;  neither  did  he,  after  the 
overthrow  of  that  government,  bear  any  public  office  in 
the  state ;  he  was  the  only  man,  of  all  that  had  to  do  in 
the  public  administration  of  affairs  in  his  time,  who  never 
promoted  or  consented  to  any  other  form  of  government 
but  the  popular ;  by  his  prudence  and  conduct,  all  the 
judgments  and  decrees,  the  laws,  courts,  and  all  things 
else  belonging  to  the  Athenians,  were  preserved  safe  and 
inviolate ;  and,  in  a  word,  he  never  said  or  did  any  thing 
to  the  prejudice  of  the  popular  government. 


III. 

Lycophron,  the  son  of  Lycurgus  of  Butadae,  requires 
that  he  may  have  diet  in  the  Prytaneum,  according  to  a 
'donation  of  the  people  to  Lycurgus.  In  the  year  of 
Anaxicrates,*  in  the  sixth  prytany,  —  which  was  that 
of  the  tribe  Antiochis,  —  Stratocles,  the  son  of  Euthyde- 
mus  of  Diomea,  proposed  ;  that,  —  since  Lycurgus,  the 
son  of  Lycophron  of  Butadae,  had  (as  it  were)  an  in¬ 
generated  good-will  in  him  towards  the  people  of  Athens  ; 
and  since  his  ancestors  Diomedes  and  Lycurgus  lived  in 
honor  and  esteem  of  all  people,  and  when  they  died  were 
honored  for  their  virtue  so  far  as  to  be  buried  at  the 


*  B.c.  807. 


388 


LIVES  OF  THE  TEN  ORATORS.' 


public  charge  in  the  Ceramicus  ;  and  since  Lycurgus 
himself,  while  he  had  the  management  of  public  affairs, 
was  the  author  of  many  good  and  wholesome  laws,  and 
was  the  city  treasurer  for  twelve  years  together,  during 
which  time  there  passed  through  his  own  hands  eighteen 
thousand  and  nine  hundred  talents,  besides  other  great 
sums  of  money  that  he  was  entrusted  with  by  private  citi¬ 
zens  for  the  public  good,  to  the  sum  of  six  hundred  and 
fifty  talents  ;  in  all  which  concerns  he  behaved  himself  so 
justly,  that  he  was  often  crowned  by  the  city  for  his 
fidelity ;  besides,  being  chosen  by  the  people  to  that 
purpose,  he  brought  much  money  into  the  Citadel,  and 
provided  ornaments,  golden  images  of  victory,  and  vessels 
of  gold  and  silver  for  the  Goddess  Minerva,  and  gold  orna¬ 
ments  for  a  hundred  Canephoroe  ;  *  since,  being  commis¬ 
sary-general,  he  brought  into  the  stores  a  great  number 
of  arms  and  at  least  fifty  thousand  shot  of  darts,  and  set 
out  four  hundred  galleys,  some  new  built,  and  others 
only  repaired ;  since,  finding  many  buildings  half  finished, 
as  the  dock-yards,  the  arsenal,  and  the  theatre  of  Bacchus, 
he  completed  them ;  and  finished  the  Panathenaic  race, 
and  the  court  for  public  exercises  at  the  Lyceum,  and 
adorned  the  city  with  many  fair  new  buildings ;  since, 
when  Alexander,  having  conquered  Asia,  and  assuming 
the  empire  of  all  Greece,  demanded  Lycurgus  as  the  prin¬ 
cipal  man  that  confronted  and  opposed  him  in  his  affairs, 
the  people  refused  to  deliver  him  up,  notwithstanding  the 
terror  inspired  by  x41exander ;  and  since,  being  often  called 
to  account  for  his  management  of  affairs  in  so  free  a  city, 
which  was  wholly  governed  by  the  people,  he  never  w^as 
found  faulty  or  corrupt  in  any  particular  ;  —  that  all  peo¬ 
ple,  therefore,  may  know,  not  only  that  the  people  do 
highly  esteem  all  such  as  act  in  defence  of  their  liberties 
and  rights  while  they  live,  but  likewise  that  they  pay  them 


*  Persons  who  carried  baskets,  or  panniers,  on  their  heads,  of  sacred  things. 


LIVES  OF  THE  TEN  ORATORS. 


389 


honors  after  death,  in  the  name  of  Good  Fortune  it  is  de¬ 
creed  by  the  people,  that  such  honors  be  paid  to  Lycurgus, 
the  son  of  Lycophron  of  Butadae,  for  his  justice  and  mag¬ 
nanimity,  as  that  a  statue  of  brass  be  erected  in  memory 
of  him  in  any  part  of  the  market  which  the  laws  do  not 
prohibit ;  as  likewise  that  there  be  provision  for  diet  in 
the  Prytaneum  for  every  eldest  son  of  his  progeny,  suc¬ 
cessively  for  ever.  Also,  that  all  his  decrees  be  ratified, 
and  engrossed  by  the  public  notary,  and  engraven  on 
pillars  of  stone,  and  set  up  in  the  Citadel  just  by  the 
gifts  consecrated  to  Minerva;  and  that  the  city  treasurer 
shall  deposit  fifty  drachms  for  the  engraving  of  them,  out 
of  the  money  set  apart  for  such  uses. 


OF  FATE.* 


I  WILL  endeavor,  my  dearest  Piso,  to  send  you  my 
opinion  concerning  Fate,  written  with  all  the  clearness 
and  compendiousness  I  am  capable  of-,  since  you,  who  are 
not  ignorant  how  cautious  I  am  of  writing,  have  thought 
fit  to  make  it  the  subject  of  your  request. 

1.  You  are  first  then  to  know  that  this  word  Fate  is 
spoken  and  understood  two  manner  of  ways  ;  the  one  as 
it  is  an  energy,  the  other  as  it  is  a  substance.  First  there¬ 
fore,  as  it  is  an  action,  Plato  f  has  under  a  type  described 
it,  saying  thus  in  his  dialogue  entitled  Phaedrus :  “  And 
this  is  a  sanction  of  Adrastea  (or  an  inevitable  ordinance), 
that  whatever  soul  being  an  attendant  on  God,”  &c.  And 
in  his  treatise  called  Timaeus:  “The  laws  which  God  in 
the  nature  of  the  universe  has  established  for  immortal 
souls.”  And  in  his  book  of  a  Commonweal  he  calls  Fate 
“  the  speech  of  the  virgin  Lachesis,  who  is  the  daughter 
of  Necessity.”  By  which  sentences  he  not  tragically  but 
theologically  shows  us  what  his  sentiments  are  in  this 
matter.  Now  if  any  one,  translating  the  fore-cited  pas¬ 
sages,  would  have  them  expressed  in  more  familiar  terms, 
the  description  in  Phaedrus  may  be  thus  explained :  That 
Fate  is  a  divine  sentence,  intransgressible  because  its  cause 

*  “  This  little  Treatise  is  so  pitiously  tome,  maimed,  and  dismembred  thorowout, 
that  a  man  may  sooner  divine  and  guess  thereat  (as  I  have  done)  than  translate  it. 
I  beseech  the  readers  therefore,  to  hold  me  excused,  in  case  I  neither  please  my 
selfe,  nor  content  them,  in  that  which  I  have  written.”  —  Holland. 

t  See  Plato,  Phaedrus,  p.  248  C ;  Timaeus,  p.  41  E  ;  Republic,  X.  p.  617  D. 


OF  FATE. 


391 


cannot  be  divested  or  hindered.  And  according  to  what 
he  has  said  in  his  Timaeus,  it  is  a  law  ensuing  on  the 
nature  of  the  universe,  according  to  which  all  things  that 
are  done  are  transacted.  For  this  does  Lachesis  effect, 
who  is  indeed  the  daughter  of  Necessity,  —  as  we  have  botli 
already  related,  and  shall  yet  better  understand  by  that 
which  will  be  said  in  the  progress  of  our  discourse.  Thus 
you  see  what  Fate  is,  when  it  is  taken  for  an  action. 

2.  But  as  it  is  a  substance,  it  seems  to  be  the  universal 
soul  of  the  world,  and  admits  of  a  threefold  distribution  ; 
the  first  destiny  being  that  which  errs  not ;  the  second, 
that  which  is  thought  to  err ;  and  the  third  that  which, 
being  under  the  heaven,  is  conversant  about  the  earth. 
Of  these,  the  highest  is  called  Clotho,  the  next  Atropos, 
and  the  lowest,  Lachesis  ;  wdio,  receiving  the  celestial  in¬ 
fluences  and  efiicacies  of  her  sisters,  transmits  and  fastens 
them  to  the  terrestrial  things  which  are  under  her  govern¬ 
ment.  Thus  have  w^e  declared  briefly  what  is  to  be  said 
of  Fate,  taken  as  a  substance  ;  what  it  is,  what  are  its  parts, 
after  what  manner  it  is,  how  it  is  ordained,  and  how  it 
stands,  both  in  respect  to  itself  and  to  us.  But  as  to  the 
particularities  of  these  things,  there  is  another  fable  in  his 
Commonweal,  by  which  they  are  in  some  measure  covertly 
insinuated,  and  we  ourselves  have,  in  the  best  manner  we 
can,  endeavored  to  explain  them  to  you. 

3.  But  we  now  once  again  turn  our  discourse  to  Fate,  as 
it  is  an  energy.  For  concerning  this  it  is  that  there  are  so 
many  natural,  moral,  and  logical  questions.  Having  there¬ 
fore  already  in  some  sort  sufficiently  defined  what  it  is,  we 
are  now  in  the  next  place  to  say  something  of  its  quality, 
although  it  may  to  many  seem  absurd.  I  say  then  that 
Fate,  though  comprehending  as  it  were  in  a  circle  the  in¬ 
finity  of  all  those  things  which  are  and  have  been  from 
infinite  times  and  shall  be  to  infinite  ages,  is  not  in  itself 
infinite,  but  determinate  and  finite ;  for  neither  law,  reason, 


392 


OF  FATE. 


\ 


nor  any  other  divine  thing  can  he  infinite.  And  this  you 
will  the  better  understand,  if  you  consider  the  total  revolu¬ 
tion  and  the  whole  time  in  which  the  revolutions  of  the 
eight  circles  (that  is,  of  the  eight  spheres  of  the  fixed  stars, 
sun,  moon,  and  five  planets),  having  (asTimaeus*  says) 
finished  their  course,  return  to  one  and  the  same  point, 
being  measured  by  the  circle  of  the  Same,  which  goes 
always  after  one  manner.  For  in  this  order,  which  is 
finite  and  determinate,  shall  all  things  (which,  as  well  in 
heaven  as  in  earth,  consist  by  necessity  from  above)  be  re¬ 
duced  to  the  same  situation,  and  restored  again  to  their 
first  beginning.  Wherefore  the  habitude  of  heaven  alone, 
being  thus  ordained  in  all  things,  as  well  in  regard  of  itself 
as  of  the  earth  and  all  terrestrial  matters,  shall  again  (after 
long  revolutions)  one  day  return ;  and  those  things  that  in 
order  follow  after,  and  being  linked  together  in  a  continuity 
are  maintained  in  their  course,  shall  be  present,  every  one 
of  them  by  necessity  bringing  what  is  its  own.  But  for 
the  better  clearing  of  this  matter,  let  us  understand  that 
whatever  is  in  us  or  about  us  is  not  wrought  by  the  course 
of  the  heavens  and  heavenly  influences,  as  being  entirely 
the  efficient  cause  both  of  my  writing  what  I  now  write, 
and  of  your  doing  also  what  you  at  present  do,  and  in  the 
same  manner  as  you  do  it.  Hereafter  then,  when  the  same 
cause  shall  return,  we  shall  do  the  same  things  we  now  do, 
and  in  the  same  manner,  and  shall  again  become  the  same 
men ;  and  so  it  will  be  wnth  all  others.  And  that  which 
follows  after  shall  also  happen  by  the  following  cause  ;  and 
in  brief,  all  things  that  shall  happen  in  the  whole  and  in 
every  one  of  these  universal  revolutions  shall  again  become 
the  same.  By  this  it  appears  (as  we  have  said  before)  that 
Fate,  being  in  some  sort  infinite,  is  nevertheless  determinate 
and  finite ;  and  it  may  be  also  in  some  sort  seen  and  com¬ 
prehended,  as  we  have  farther  said,  that  it  is  as  it  were  a 


*  Plato,  Tim.  p.  39  D. 


OF  FATE. 


393 


circle.  For  as  a  motion  of  a  circle  is  a  circle,  and  the  time 
that  measures  it  is  also  a  circle  ;  so  the  order  of  things 
which  are  done  and  happen  in  a  circle  may  be  justly 
esteemed  and  called  a  circle. 

4.  This  therefore,  though  there  should  be  nothing  else, 
almost  shows  us  what  sort  of  thing  Fate  is ;  but  not  par¬ 
ticularly  or  in  every  respect.  What  kind  of  thing  then  is 
it  in  its  own  form?  It  is,  as  far  as  one  can  compare  it, 
like  to  the  civil  or  politic  law.  For  first  it  commands  the 
most  part  of  things  at  least,  if  not  all,  conditionally ;  and 
then  it  comprises  (as  far  as  is  possible  for  it)  all  things  that 
belong  to  the  public  in  general ;  and  the  better  to  make 
you  understand  both  the  one  and  the  other,  we  must 
specify  them  by  an  example.  The  civil  law  speaks  and 
ordains  in  general  of  a  valiant  man,  and  also  of  a  deserter 
and  a  coward ;  and  in  the  same  manner  of  others.  Now 
this  is  not  to  make  the  law  speak  of  this  or  that  man  in 
particular,  but  principally  to  propose  such  things  as  are 
universal  or  general,  and  consequently  such  as  fall  under 
them.  For  we  may  very  well  say,  that  it  is  legal  to  reward 
this  man  for  having  demeaned  himself  valiantly,  and  to 
punish  that  man  for  flying  from  his  colors ;  because  the 
law  has  virtually  —  though  not  in  express  terms  and  par¬ 
ticularly  yet  in  such  general  ones  as  they  are  compre¬ 
hended  under, —  so  determined  of  them.  As  the  law  (if 
I  may  so  speak)  of  physicians  and  masters  of  corporal 
exercises  potentially  comprehends  particular  and  special 
things  within  the  general ;  so  the  law  of  Nature,  determin¬ 
ing  first  and  principally  general  matters,  secondarily  and 
consequently  determines  such  as  are  particular.  Thus, 
general  things  being  decreed  by  Fate,  particular  and  indi¬ 
vidual  things  may  also  in  some  sort  be  said  to  be  so,  be¬ 
cause  they  are  so  by  consequence  with  the  general.  But 
perhaps  some  one  of  those  who  more  accurately  examine 
and  more  subtly  search  into  these  things  may  say,  on  the 


394 


OF  FATE. 


contrary,  that  particular  and  individual  things  precede  the 
composition  of  general  things,  and  that  the  general  exist 
only  for  the  particular,  since  that  for  which  another  thing 
is  always  goes  before  that  which  is  for  it.  Nevertheless, 
this  is  not  the  proper  place  to  treat  of  this  difficulty,  but 
it  is  to  be  remitted  to  another.  However,  that  Fate  com¬ 
prehends  not  all  things  clearly  and  expressly,  but  only  such' 
as  are  universal  and  general,  let  it  pass  for  resolved  on  at 
present,  as  well  for  what  we  have  already  said  a  little  be¬ 
fore,  as  for  what  we  shall  say  hereafter.  For  that  which 
is  finite  and  determinate,  agreeing  pi’operly  with  divine 
Providence,  is  seen  more  in  universal  and  general  things 
than  in  particular ;  such  therefore  is  the  divine  law,  and 
also  the  civil ;  but  infinity  consists  in  particulars  and  indi¬ 
viduals. 

After  this  we  are  to  declare  what  this  term  “  condition¬ 
ally”  means ;  for  it  is  to  be  thought  that  Fate  is  also  some 
such  thing.  That  then  is  said  to  be  conditionally,  which 
is  supposed  to  exist  not  of  itself  or  absolutely,  but  as 
really  dependent  upon  and  joined  to  another ;  which  sig¬ 
nifies  a  suit  and  consequence.  “  And  this  is  the  sanction 
of  Adrastea  (or  an  inevitable  ordinance),  that  whatever 
soul,  being  an  attendant  on  God,  shall  see  any  thing  of 
truth,  shall  till  another  revolution  be  exempt  from  punish¬ 
ment  ;  and  if  it  is  always  able  to  do  the  same,  it  shall 
never  suffer  anv  damage.”*  This  is  said  both  condition- 
ally  and  also  universally.  Now  that  Fate  is  some  such 
thing  is  clearly  manifest,  as  well  from  its  substance  as 
from  its  name.  For  it  is  called  eiixaQ^svrj  as  being  eiQOfAt'vrj, 
that  is,  dependent  and  linked ;  and  it  is  a  sanction  or  law, 
because  things  are  therein  ordained  and  disposed  conse¬ 
quentially,  as  is  usual  in  civil  government. 

5.  We  ought  in  the  next  place  to  consider  and  treat  of 

*  This  is  the  whole  passage  from  Plato’s  Phaedrus,  p.  248  C,  of  which  part  is 
ijuoted  in  §  1.  (G.) 


OF  FATE. 


395 


mutual  relation  and  affection  ;  that  is,  what  reference  and 
respect  Fate  has  to  divine  Providence,  what  to  Fortune, 
what  also  to  “  that  which  is  in  our  power,”  what  to  contin¬ 
gent  and  other  such  like  things ;  and  furthermore  we  are 
to  determine,  how  far  and  in  what  it  is  true  or  false  that 
all  things  happen  and  are  done  by  and  according  to  Fate. 
For  if  the  meaning  is,  that  all  things  are  comprehended 
and  contained  in  Fate,  it  must  be  granted  that  this  propo¬ 
sition  is  true ;  and  if  any  would  farther  have  it  so  under¬ 
stood,  that  all  things  which  are  done  amongst  men,  on 
earth,  and  in  heaven  are  placed  in  Fate,  let  this  also  pass 
as  granted  for  the  present.  But  if  (as  the  expression  seems 
rather  to  imply)  the  “  being  done  according  to  Fate”  sig¬ 
nifies  not  all  things,  but  only  that  which  is  an  immediate 
consequent  of  Fate,  then  it  must  not  be  said  that  all  things 
happen  and  are  done  by  and  according  to  Fate,  though  all 
things  are  so  according  to  Fate  as  to  be  comprised  in  it. 
For  all  things  that  the  law  comprehends  and  of  which  it 
speaks  are  not  legal  or  according  to  law ;  for  it  compre¬ 
hends  treason,  it  treats  of  the  cowardly  running  away  from 
one’s  colors  in  time  of  battle,  of  adultery,  and  many  other 
such  like  things,  of  which  it  cannot  be  said  that  any  one 
of  them  is  lawful.  Neither  indeed  can  I  affirm  of  the  per¬ 
forming  a  valorous  act  in  war,  the  killing  of  a  tyrant,  or 
the  doing  any  other  virtuous  deed,  that  it  is  legal ;  be¬ 
cause  that  only  is  proper  to  be  called  legal,  which  is  com¬ 
manded  by  the  law.  Now  if  the  law  commands  these 
things,  how  can  they  avoid  being  rebels  against  the  law 
and  transgressors  of  it,  who  neither  perform  valiant  feats 
of  arms,  kill  tyrants,  nor  do  any  other  such  remarkable 
acts  of  virtue  ]  And  if  they  are  transgressors  of  the  law', 
why  is  it  not  just  they  should  be  punished?  But  if  this 
is  not  reasonable,  it  must  then  be  also  confessed  that  these 
things  are  not  legal  or  according  to  law ;  but  that  legal 
and  according  to  law  is  only  that  which  is  particularly  pre- 


I 


396  OF  FATE. 

scribed  and  expressly  commanded  by  the  law,  in  any  action' 
whatsoever.  In  like  manner,  those  things  only  are  fatal- 
and  according  to  Fate,  which  are  the  consequences  of 
causes  preceding  in  the  divine  disposition.  ,  So  that  Fate 
indeed  comprehends  all  things  which  are  done ;  yet  many 
of  those  things  that  are  comprehended  in  it,  and  almost  all 
that  precede,  should  not  (to  speak  properly)  be  pronounced 
to  be  fatal  or  according  to  Fate. 

6.  These  things  being  so,  we  are  next  in  order  to  show, 
how  “  that  which  is  in  our  power”  (or  free  will),  Fortune, 
possible,  contingent,  and  other  like  things  which  are  placed 
among  the  antecedent  causes,  can  consist  with  Fate,  and 
Fate  Avith  them ;  for  Fate,  as  it  seems,  comprehends  all 
things,  and  yet  all  these  things  will  not  happen  by  neces¬ 
sity,  but  every  one  of  them  according  to  the  principle  of  its 
nature.  *  Now  the  nature  of  the  possible  is  to  presubsist, 
as  the  genus,  and  to  go  before  the  contingent ;  and  the 
contingent,  as  the  matter  and  subject,  is  to  be  presupposed 
to  free  Avill ;  and  our  free  will  ought  as  a  master  to  make  use 
of  the  contingent;  and  Fortune  comes  in  by  the  side  of 
free  Avill,  through  the  property  of  the  contingent  of  inclining 
to  either  part.  Now  you  will  more  easily  apprehend  what 
has  been  said,  if  you  shall  consider  that  every  thing  which 
is  generated,  and  the  generation  itself,  is  not  done  without 
a  generative  faculty  or  power,  and  the  poAver  is  not  with¬ 
out  a  substance.  As  for  example,  neither  the  generation 
of  man,  nor  that  Avhich  is  generated,  is  without  a  power ; 
but  this  poAver  is  about  man,  and  man  himself  is  the  sub¬ 
stance.  Noav  the  power  or  faculty  is  between  the  sub¬ 
stance,  AAdiich  is  the  poAverful,  and  the  generation  and  the 
thing  generated,  Avhich  are  both  possibles.  There  being 
then  these  three  things,  the  poAver,  the  poAverful,  and  the 
possible ;  before  the  power  can  exist,  the  poAverful  must 
of  necessity  be  presupposed  as  its  subject,  and  the  power 
must  also  necessarily  subsist  before  the  possible.  By  this 


OF  FATE. 


397; 


deduction  then  may  in  some  measure  be  understood  what 
is  meant  by  possible ;  which  may  be  grossly  defined  as 
“  that  which  power  is  able  to  produce  ;  ”  or  yet  more 
exactly,  if  to  this  same  there  be  added,  “  provided  there 
be  nothing  from  without  to  hinder  or  obstruct  it.”  Now 
of  possible  things  there  are  some  which  can  never  be 
hindered,  as  are  those  in  heaven,  to  wit,  the  rising  and 
setting  of  the  stars,  and  the  like  to  these ;  but  others  may 
indeed  be  hindered,  as  are  the  niost  part  of  human  things, 
and  many  also  of  those  which  are  done  in  the  air.  The 
first,  as  being  done  by  necessity,  are  called  necessary ;  the 
others,  which  may  fall  oiie  way  or  other,  are  called  con¬ 
tingent  ;  and  they  may  both  thus  be  described.  The 
necessary  possible  is  that  whose  contrary  is  impossible  ; 
and  the  contingent  possible  is  that'  whose  contrary  is  also 
possible.  For  that  the  sun  should  set  is  a  thing  both 
necessary  and  possible,  forasmuch  as  it  is  contrary  to  this 
that  the  sun  should  not  set,  which  is  impossible  ;  but  that, 
when  the  sun  is  set,  there  should  be  rain  or  not  rain,  both 
the  one  and  the  other  is  possible  and  contingent.  And 
then  again  of  things  contingent,  some  happen  oftener, 
others  rarely  and  not  so  often,  others  fall  out  equally  or 
indifferently,  as  well  the  one  way  as  the  other,  even  as  it 
happens.  Now  it  is  manifest  that  those  are  contrary  to 
one  another,  —  to  wit,  those  which  fall  out  oftener  and 
those  which  happen  but  seldom,  —  and  they  both  for  the 
most  part  depend  on  Nature ;  but  that  which  happens 
equally,  as  much  one  way  as  another,  depends  on  our¬ 
selves.  For  that  under  the  Dog  it  should  be  either  hot  or 
cold,  the  one  oftener,  the  other  seldomer,  are  both  things 
subject  to  Nature ;  but  to  walk  and  not  to  walk,  and  all 
such  things  of  which  both  the  one  and  the  other  are  sub¬ 
mitted  to  the  free  will  of  man,  are  said  to  be  in  us  and  our 
election  ;  but  rather  more  generally  to  be  in  us.  For  there 
are  two  sorts  of  this  “being  in  our  power;”  the  one  of 


398 


OF  FATE. 


which  proceeds  from  some  sudden  passion  and  motion 
of  the  mind,  as  from  anger  or  pleasure ;  the  other  from 
the  discourse  and  judgment  of  reason,  which  may  properly 
be  said  to  be  in  our  election.  And  some  reason  there  is 
to  believe  that  this  possible  and  contingent  is  the  same 
thing  with  that  which  is  said  to  be  in  us  and  according  to 
our  free  will,  although  differently  named.  For  in  respect 
to  the  future,  it  is  styled  possible  and  contingent ;  and  in 
respect  of  the  present,  it  is  named  “  in  our  power  ”  and 
“  in  our  free  will.”  So  that  these  things  may  thus  be  de¬ 
fined :  The  contingent  is  that  which  is  itself — as  well 
as  its  contrary  —  possible  ;  and  “  that  which  is  in  our 
power  ”  is  one  part  of  the  contingent,  to  wit,  that  which 
now  takes  place  according  to  our  will.  Thus  have  we  in 
a  manner  declared,  that  the  possible  in  the  order  of  Nature 
precedes  the  contingent,  and  that  the  contingent  subsists 
before  free  will ;  as  also  what  each  of  them  is,  whence 
they  are  so  named,  and  what  are  the  qualities  adjoined  or 
appertaining  to  them. 

7.  It  now  remains,  that  we  treat  of  Fortune  and  casual 
adventure,  and  whatever  else  is  to  be  considered  with  them. 
It  is  therefore  certain  that  Fortune  is  a  cause.  Now  of 
causes,  some  are  causes  by  themselves,  and  others  by  acci¬ 
dent.  Thus  for  example,  the  proper  cause  by  itself  of  an 
house  or  a  ship  is  the  art  of  the  mason,  the  carpenter,  or 
the  shipwright ;  but  causes  by  accident  are  music,  geome¬ 
try,  and  whatever  else  may  happen  to  be  joined  with  the 
art  of  building  houses  or  ships,  in  respect  either  of  the 
body,  the  soul,  or  any  exterior  thing.  Whence  it  appears, 
that  the  cause  by  itself  must  needs  be  determinate  and 
one ;  but  the  causes  by  accident  are  never  one  and  the 
same,  but  infinite  and  undetermined.  For  many  —  nay,  in¬ 
finite  —  accidents,  wholly  different  one  from  the  other,  may 
be  in  one  and  the  same  subject.  Now  the  cause  by  acci¬ 
dent,  when  it  is  found  in  a  thing  which  not  merely  is  done 


OF  FATE. 


399 


/ 

for  some  end  but  has  in  it  free  will  and  election,  is  then 
culled  Fortune  ;  as  is  the  finding  a  treasure  while  one  is 
digging  a  hole  to  plant  a  tree,  or  the  doing  or  suffering 
some  extraordinary  thing  whilst  one  is  flying,  following,  or 
otherwise  walking,  or  only  turning  about,  provided  it  be 
not  for  the  sake  of  that  which  happens,  but  for  some  other 
intention.  Hence  it  is,  that  some  of  the  ancients  have  de¬ 
clared  Fortune  to  be  a  cause  unknown,  that  cannot  be  fore¬ 
seen  by  the  human  reason.  But  according  to  the  Platonics, 
who  have  approached  yet  nearer  to  the  true  reason  of  it, 
it  is  thus  defined :  Fortune  is  a  cause  by  accident,  in  those 
things  which  are  done  for  some  end,  and  which  are  of  our 
election.  And  afterwards  they  add,  that  it  is  unforeseen 
and  unknown  to  the  human  reason ;  although  that  which 
is  rare  and  strange  appears  also  by  the  same  means  to  be 
in  this  kind  of  cause  by  accident.  But  what  this  is,  if  it 
is  not  sufficiently  evidenced  by  the  oppositions  and  dispu¬ 
tations  made  against  it,  will  at  least  most  clearly  be  seen 
by  what  is  written  in  Plato’s  Phaedo,  where  you  will  find 
these  words  : 

Phaed.  Have  you  not  heard  how  and  in  what  man¬ 
ner  the  judgment  passed]  Ech.  Yes  indeed;  for  there 
came  one  and  told  us  of  it.  At  which  we  wondered  very 
much  that,  the  judgment  having  been  given  long  before, 
it  seems  that  he  died  a  great  while  after.  And  what, 
Phaedo,  might  be  the  cause  of  it  1  Phaed.  It  was  a  for¬ 
tune  which  happened  to  him,  Echecrates.  For  it  chanced 
that,  the  day  before  the  judgment,  the  stern  of  the  galley 
which  the  Athenians  send  every  year  to  the  isle  of  Delos 
was  crowned.* 

In  which  discourse  it  is  to  be  observed,  that  the  expres¬ 
sion  happened  to  him  is  not  simply  to  be  understood  by 
was  done  or  cayne  to  pass,  but  it  much  rather  regards 
what  befell  him  through  the  concurrence  of  many  causes 

*  riato,  Phaedo,  p.  58  A. 


400 


OF  FATE. 


together,  one  being  done  with  regard  to  another.  For  the 
priest  crowned  the  ship  and  adorned  it  with  garlands  for 
another  end  and  intention,  and  not  for  the  sake  of  Socra¬ 
tes  ;  and  the  judges  also  had  for  some  other  cause  con¬ 
demned  him.  But  the  event  was  strange,  and  of  such  a 
nature  that  it  might  seem  to  have  been  effected  by  the 
providence  of  some  human  creature,  or  rather  of  some 
superior  powers.  And  so  much  may  suffice  to  show'with 
what  Fortune  must  of  necessity  subsist,  and  that  there  must 
be  first  some  subject  of  such  things  as  are  in  our  free 
will :  its  effect  is,  moreover,  like  itself  called  Fortune. 

But  chance  or  casual  adventure  is  of  a  larger  extent 
than  Fortune;  which  it  comprehends,  and  also  several 
other  things  which  may  of  their  own  nature  happen  some¬ 
times  one  way,  sometimes  another.  And  this,  as  it  ap¬ 
pears  by  the  derivation  of  its  name,  which  is  in  Greek 
avTOfxatov,  chance^  is  that  which  happens  of  itself,  when  that 
which  is  ordinary  happens  not,  but  another  thing  in  its 
place ;  such  as  cold  in  the  dog-days  seems  to  be  ;  for  it 
is  sometimes  then  cold.  .  .  .  Once  for  all,  as  “  that  which 
is  in  our  power”  is  a  part  of  the  contingent,  so  Fortune  is 
a  part  of  chance  or  casual  adventure  ;  and  both  the  two 
events  are  conjoined  and  dependent  on  the  one  and  the 
other,  to  wit,  chance  on  contingent,  and  Fortune  on  “  that 
which  is  in  our  power,”  —  and  yet  not  on  all,  but  on  what 
is  in  our  election,  as  we  have  already  said.  Wherefore 
chance  is  common  to  things  inanimate,  as  well  as  to  those 
which  are  animated ;  whereas  Fortune  is  proper  to  man 
only,  who  has  his  actions  voluntary.  And  an  argument  of 
this  is,  that  to  be  fortunate  and  to  be  happy  are  thought 
to  be  one  and  the  same  thing. »  Now  happiness  is  a  cer¬ 
tain  well-doing,  and  well-doing  is  proper  only  to  man,  and 
to  him  perfect. 

8.  These  then  are  the  things  which  are  comprised  in 
Fate,  to  wit,  contingent,  possible,  election,  “  that  which  is 


OF  FATE. 


401 


in  our  power,”  Fortune,  chance,  and  their  adjuncts,  as  are 
the  things  signified  by  the  words  perhaps  and  peradven- 
ture  ;  all  which  indeed  are  contained  in  Fate,  yet  none  of 
them  is  fatal.  It  now  remains,  that  we  discourse  of  di 
vine  Providence,  and  show  how  it  comprehends  even  Fate 
itself. 

9.  The  supreme  therefore  and  first  Providence  is  the 
understanding  or  (if  you  had  rather)  the  will  of  the  first 
and  sovereign  God,  doing  good  to  every  thing  that  is  in 
the  world,  by  which  all  divine  things  have  universally  and 
throughout  been  most  excellently  and  most  wisely  or¬ 
dained  and  disposed.  The  second  Providence  is  that  of 
the  second  Gods,  who  go  through  the  heaven,  by  which 
temporal  and  mortal  things  are  orderly  and  regularly  gen¬ 
erated,  and  which  pertains  to  the  continuation  and  preser¬ 
vation  of  every  kind.  The  third  may  probably  be  called 
the  Providence  and  procuration  of  the  Daemons,  which,  be¬ 
ing  placed  on  the  earth,  are  the  guardians  and  overseers 
of  human  actions.  This  threefold  Providence  therefore 
being  seen,  of  which  the  first  and  supreme  is  chiefly  and 
principally  so  named,  we  shall  not  be  afraid  to  say,  al¬ 
though  we  may  in  this  seem  to  contradict  the  sentiments 
of  some  philosophers,  that  all  things  are  done  by  Fate  and 
by  Providence,  but  not  also  by  Nature.  But  some  are  done 
according  to  Providence,,  —  these  according  to  one,  those 
according  to  another,  —  and  some  according  to  Fate  ;  and 
Fate  is  altogether  according  to  Providence,  while  Providence 
is  in  no  wise  according  to  Fate.  But  let  this  discourse  be 
understood  of  the  first  and  supreme  Providence.  Now 
that  which  is  done  according  to  another,  whatever  it  is, 
is  ahvays  posterior  to  that  according  to  which  it  is  done ; 
as  that  which  is  according  to  the  law  is  after  the  law,  and 
that  which  is  according  to  Nature  is  after  Nature,  so  that 
which  is  according  to  Fate  is  after  Fate,  and  must  conse¬ 
quently  be  more  new  and  modern.  Wherefore  supreme 


402 


OF  FATE. 


( 


Providence  is  the  most  ancient  of  all  things,  except  him 
whose  will  or  understanding  it  is,  to  wit,  the  sover¬ 
eign  author,  maker,  and  father  of  all  things.  “  Let  us 
therefore,”  says  Timaeus,  “  discourse  for  what  cause  the 
Creator  made  and  framed  this  machine  of  the  universe. 
He  was  good,  and  in  him  that  is  good  there  can  never  be 
imprinted  or  engendered  any  envy  against  any  thing.  Be¬ 
ing  therefore  wholly  free  from  this,  he  desired  that  all 
things  should,  as  far  as  it  is  possible,  resemble  himself. 
He  therefore,  who  admits  this  to  have  been  chiefly  the 
principal  original  of  the  generation  and  creation  of  the 
world,  as  it  has  been  delivered  to  us  by  wise  men,  receives 
that  which  is  most  right.  For  God,  who  desired  that  all 
things  should  be  good,  and  nothing,  as  far  as  possibly  might 
be,  evil,  taking  thus  all  that  was  visible,  —  restless  as  it  was, 
and  moving  rashly  and  confusedly,  —  reduced  it  from  disor¬ 
der  to  order,  esteeming  the  one  to  be  altogether  better  than 
the  other.  For  it  neither  was  nor  is  convenient  for  him 
who  is  in  all  perfection  good,  to  make  any  thing  that 
should  not  be  very  excellent  and  beautiful.”*  This,  there¬ 
fore,  and  all  that  follows,  even  to  his  disputation  concern¬ 
ing  human  souls,  is  to  be  understood  of  the  first  Providence, 
which  in  the  beginning  constituted  all  things.  Afterwards 
he  speaks  thus :  “  Having  framed  the  universe,  he  or¬ 
dained  souls  equal  in  number  to  the  stars,  and  distributed 
to  each  of  them  one  ;  and  having  set  them,  as  it  were,  in 
a  chariot,  showed  the  nature  of  the  universe,  and  appointed 
them  the  laws  of  Fate.”  'j*  Who  then  will  not  believe,  that 
by  these  words  he  expressly  and  manifestly  declares  Fat6 
to  be,  as  it  were,  a  foundation  and  political  constitution  of 
laws,  fitted  for  the  souls  of  men?  Of  which  he  after¬ 
wards  renders  the  cause. 

As  for  the  second  Providence,  he  thus  in  a  manner  ex¬ 
plains  it,  saying :  Having  prescribed  them  all  these  laws, 


*  Plato,  Timaeus,  p.  29  D. 


t  Plato,  Timaeus,  p.  41  D. 


OF  FATE. 


403 


to  the  end  that,  if  there  should  afterwards  happen  any 
fault,  he  might  be  exempt  from  being  the  cause  of  any  of 
their  evil,  he  dispersed  some  of  them  upon  the  earth,  some 
into  the  moon,  and  some  into  the  other  instruments  of 
time.  And  after  this  dispersion,  he  gave  in  charge  to  the 
young  Gods  the  making  of  human  bodies,  and  the  making 
up  and  adding  whatever  was  wanting  and  deficient  in 
human  souls ;  and  after  they  had  perfected  whatever  is 
adherent  and  consequent  to  this,  they  should  rule  and 
govern,  in  the  best  manner  they  possibly  could,  this  mortal 
creature,  so  far  as  it  should  not  be  the  cause  of  its  own 
evils.”*  For  by  these  words,  “that  he  might  be  exempt 
from  being  the  cause  of  any  of  their  evil,”  he  most  clearly 
signifies  the  cause  of  Fate;  and  the  order  and  office  of 
the  young  Gods  manifests  the  second  Providence ;  and  it 
seems  also  in  some  sort  to  have  touched  a  little  upon  the 
third,  if  he  therefore  established  laws  and  ordinances  that 
he  might  be  exempt  from  being  the  cause  of  any  of  their 
evil.  For  God,  who  is  free  from  all  evil,  has  no  need  of 
laws  or  Fate ;  but  every  one  of  these  petty  Gods,  drawn 
on  by  the  providence  of  him  who  has  engendered  them, 
performs  what  belongs  to  his  office.  Now  that  this  is  true 
and  agreeable  to  the  opinion  of  Plato,  these  words  of  the 
lawgiver,  spoken  by  him  in  his  Book  of  Laws,  seems  to 
me  to  give  sufficient  testimony :  “If  there  were  any  man 
so  sufficient  by  Nature,  being  by  divine  Fortune  happily 
engendered  and  born,  that  he  could  comprehend  this,  he 

would  have  no  need  of  laws  to  command  him.  For  there 

/ 

is  not  any  law  or  ordinance  more  worthy  and  powerful 
than  knowledge  ;  nor  is  it  fitting  that  Mind,  provided  it 
be  truly  and  really  free  by  Nature,  should  be  a  subject  or 
slave  to  any  one,  but  it  ought  to  command  all.”f 

10.  I  therefore  do  for  mine  own  part  thus  understand 
and  interpret  this  sentence  of  Plato.  There  being  a  three- 

*  Plato,  Timaeus,  p.  42  D.  t  Plato,  Laws,  IX.  p.  875  C. 


404 


OF  FATE. 


fold  Providence,  the  first,  as  having  engendered  Fate,  does 
in  some  sort  comprehend  it ;  the  second,  having  been  en¬ 
gendered  with  Fate,  is  with  it  totally  comprehended  and 
embraced  by  the  first ;  the  third,  as  having  been  engen¬ 
dered  after  Fate,  is  comprehended  by  it  in  the  same  manner 
as  are  free  will  and  Fortune,  as  we  have  already  said. 
“  For  they  whom  the  assistance  of  a  Daemon’s  power  does 
aid  in  their  intercourse  with  me  ”  says  Socrates,  declaring 
to  Theages  what  is  the  almost  inevitable  ordinance  of 
Adrastea  “  are  those  whom  you  also  mean  ;  for  they  grow 
and  come  forward  with  speed.”*  In  which  words,  what 
he  says  of  a  Daemon’s  aiding  some  is  to  be  ascribed  to  the 
third  Providence,  and  the  growing  and  coming  forward 
with  speed,  to  Fate.  In  brief,  it  is  not  obscure  or  doubtful 
but  that  this  also  is  a  kind  of  Fate.  And  perhaps  it  may 
be  found  much  more  probable  that  the  second  Providence 
is  also  comprehended  under  Fate,  and  indeed  all  things 
that  are  done ;  since  Fate,  as  a  substance,  has  been  rightly 
divided  by  us  into  three  parts,  and  the  fable  of  the  chain 
comprehends  the  revolutions  of  the  heavens  in  the  number 
and  rank  of  those  things  which  happen  conditionally.  But 
concerning  these  things  I  will  not  much  contend,  to  wit, 
whether  they  should  be  called  conditional,  or  rather  con¬ 
joined  with  Fate,  the  precedent  cause  and  commander  of 
Fate  being  also  fatal. 

11.  Our  opinion  then,  to  speak  compendiously,  is  such. 
But  the  contrary  sentiment  does  not  only  include  all  things 
in  Fate,  but  affirms  them  all  to  be  done  by  and  according 
to  Fate.  It  accords  indeed  in  all  things  to  the  other  (the 
Stoic)  doctrine ;  and  that  which  accords  to  it,  ’tis  clear,  is 
the  same  thing  with  it.  In  this  discourse  therefore  we 
have  first  spoken  of  the  contingent ;  secondly,  of  “that 
which  is  in  our  power;”  thirdly,  of  Fortune  and  chance, 
and  whatever  depends  on  them  ;  fourthly,  of  praise,  blame, 

♦  Plato,  Theages,  p.  129  E. 


OF  FATE. 


405  ‘ 


and  whatever  depends  on  them ;  the  fifth  and  last  of  all 
may  be  said  to  be  prayers  to  the  Gods,  with  their  services 
and  ceremonies. 

For  the  rest,  as  to  those  which  are  called  idle  and  reap¬ 
ing  arguments,  and  that  which  is  named  the  argument 
against  destiny,  they  are  indeed  but  vain  subtleties  and 
captious  sophisms,  according  to  this  discourse.  But  accord¬ 
ing  to  the  contrary  opinion,  the  first  and  principal  conclu¬ 
sion  seems  to  be,  that  there  is  nothing  done  without  a 
cause,  but  that  all  things  depend  upon  antecedent  causes ; 
the  second,  that  the  world  is  governed  by  Nature,  and  that 
it  conspires,  consents,  and  is  compatible  with  itself ;  the 
third  seems  rather  to  be  testimonies,  —  of  which  the  first 
is  divination,  approved  by  all  sorts  of  people,  as  being 
truly  in  God ;  the  second  is  the  equanimity  and  patience 
of  wise  men,  who  take  mildly  and  bear  patiently  w^hatever 
befalls,  as  happening  by  divine  ordinance  and  as  it  ought ; 
the  third  is  the  speech  so  common  and  usual  in  every 
one’s  mouth,  to  wit,  that  every  proposition  is  true  or  false. 
Thus  have  we  contracted  this  discourse  into  a  small  num¬ 
ber  of  short  articles,  that  we  might  in  few  words  compre¬ 
hend  the  whole  matter  of  Fate ;  into  which  a  scrutiny 
ought  to  be  made,  and  the  reasons  of  both  opinions  to  be 
weighed  with  a  most  exact  balance.  But  we  shall  here¬ 
after  come  to  discuss  particulars. 


PLUTARCH’S  CONSOLATORY  LETTER  TO  HIS 

WIFE. 


PLUTARCH  TO  HIS  WIFE:  ALL  HEALTH. 

1.  As  for  the  messenger  you  despatched  to  tell  me  of 
the  death  of  my  little  daughter,  it  seems  he  missed  his 
way  as  he  was  going  to  Athens..  But  when  I  came  to 
Tanagra,  I  heard  of  it  by  my  niece.  I  suppose  by  this 
time  the  funeral  is  over.  I  wish  that  whatever  has  been 
done  may  create  you  no  dissatisfaction,  as  well  now  as 
hereafter.  But  if  you  have  designedly  let  any  thing  alone, 
depending  upon  my  judgment,  thinking  better  to  deter¬ 
mine  the  point  if  I  were  with  you,  I  pray  let  it  be  without 
ceremony  and  timorous  superstition,  .which  I  know  are  far 
from  you. 

2.  Only,  dear  wife,  let  you  and  me  bear  our  affliction 
with  patience.  I  know  very  well  and  do  comprehend  what 
loss  we  have  had  ;  but  if  I  should  find  you  grieve  beyond 
measure,  this  would  trouble  me  more  than  the  thing  itself. 
For  I  had  my  birth  neither  from  a  stock  nor  a  stone  ;  *  and 
you  know  it  full  well,  I  having  been  assistant  to  you  in  the 
education  of  so  many  children,  which  we  brought  up  at 
home  under  our  own  care.  This  daughter  was  born  after 
four  sons,  when  you  were  longing  to  bear  a  daughter ; 
which  made  me  call  her  by  your  own  name.  Therefore  I 
know  she  was  particularly  dear  to  you.  And  grief  must 
have  a  peculiar  pungency  in  a  mind  tenderly  affectionate 
to  children,  when  you  call  to  mind  how  naturally  witty  and 

♦  See  II.  XXII.  126. 


PLUTARCH’S  LETTER  TO  HIS  WIFE. 


407 


innocent  she  was,  void  of  anger,  and  not  querulous.  She 
was  naturally  mild,  and  compassionate  to  a  miracle.  And 
her  gratitude  and  kindness  not  only  gave  us  delight,  but 
also  manifested  her  generous  nature  ;  for  she  would  pray 
her  nurse  to  give  suck,  not  only  to  other  children,  but  to 
her  very  playthings,  as  it  were  courteously  inviting  them 
to  her  table,  and  making  the  best  cheer  for  them  she 
*  could. 

3.  Now,  my  dear  wife,  I  see  no  reason  why  these  and 
the  like  things,  which  delighted  us  so  much  when  she 
was  alive,  should  upon  remembrance  of  them  afflict  us 
when  she  is  dead.  But  I  also  fear  lest,  while  we  cease 
from  sorrowing,  we  should  forget  her ;  as  Clymene  said, 

I  hate  the  handy  horned  bow. 

And  banish  youthful  pastimes  now ;  i 

because  she  would  not  be  put  in  mind  of  her  son  by  the 
exercises  he  had  been  used  to.  For  Nature  always  shuns 
such  things  as  are  troublesome.  But  since  our  little 
daughter  afforded  all  our  senses  the  sweetest  and  most 
charming  pleasure  ;  so  ought  we  to  cherish  her  memory, 
which  will  conduce  many  ways  —  or  rather  many  fold  — 
more  to  our  joy  than  our  grief.  And  it  is  but  just,  that 
the  same  arguments  which  we  have  oft-times  used  to  others 
should  prevail  upon  ourselves  at  this  so  seasonable  a  time, 
and  that  we  should  not  supinely  sit  down  and  overwhelm 
the  joys  wdiich  we  have  tasted  with  a  multiplicity  of  new 
griefs. 

4.  Moreover,  they  who  were  present  at  the  funeral  re¬ 
port  this  with  admiration,  that  you  neither  put  on  mourn¬ 
ing,  nor  disfigured  yourself  or  any  of  your  maids ;  neither 
w’ere  there  any  costly  preparations  nor  magnificent  pomp  ; 
but  all  things  w’ere  managed  with  silence  and  modera¬ 
tion  in  the  presence  of  our  relatives  alone.  And  it 
seemed  not  strange  to  me  that  you,  who  never  used  richly 


408 


PLUTARCH’S  CONSOLATORY  LETTER 


to  dress  yourself  for  the  theatre  or  other  public  solemni¬ 
ties,  esteeming  such  magnificence  vain  and  useless  even 
in  matters  of  delight,  have  now  practised  frugality  on 
this  sad  occasion.  For  a  virtuous  woman  ought  not  only 
to  preserve  her  purity  in  riotous  feasts,  but  also  to  think 
thus  with  herself,  that  the  tempest  of  the  mind  in  violent 
grief  must  be  calmed  by  patience,  which  does  not  intrench 
on  the  natural  love  of  parents  towards  their  children,  as 
many  think,  but  only  struggles  against  the  disorderly  and  ' 
irregular  passions  of  the  mind.  For  we  allow  this  love 
of  children  to  discover  itself  in  lamenting,  wishing  for, 
and  longing  after  them  when  they  are  dead.  But  the  ex¬ 
cessive  inclination  to  grief,  which  carries  people  on  to 
unseemly  exclamations  and  furious  behavior,  is  no  less 
culpable  than  luxurious  intemperance.  Yet  reason  seems 
to  plead  in  its  excuse ;  because,  instead  of  pleasure,  grief 
and  sorrow  are  ingredients  of  the  crime.  What  can  be 
more  irrational,  I  pray,  than  to  check  excessive  laughter 
and  joy,  and  yet  to  give  a  free  course  to  rivers  of  tears 
and  sighs,  which  fiow  from  the  same  fountain]  Or,  as 
some  do,  quarrel  with  their  wives  for  using  artificial  helps 
to  beauty,  and  in  the  mean  time  suffer  them  to  shave  theii 
heads,  wear  the  mournful  black,  sit  disconsolate,  and  lie  in 
pain  ]  And,  which  is  worst  of  all,  if  their  wives  at  any 
time  chastise  their  servants  or  maids  immoderately,  they 
will  interpose  and  hinder  them,  but  at  the  same  time  suf¬ 
fering  them  to  torment  and  punish  themselves  most 
cruelly,  in  a  case  which  peculiarly  requires  their  great¬ 
est  tenderness  and  humanity  ] 

5.  But  between  us,  dear  wife,  there  never  was  any 
occasion  for  such  contests,  nor,  I  think,  will  there  ever 
be.  For  there  is  no  philosopher  of  our  acquaintance 
who  is  not  in  love  with  your  frugality,  both  in  apparel  and 
diet ;  nor  a  citizen,  to  whom  the  simplicity  and  plainness 
of  your  dress  is  not  conspicuous,  both  at  religious  sacrifices 


TO  HIS  WIFE 


409 


and  public  shows  in  the  theatre.  Formerly  also  you  dis¬ 
covered  on  the  like  occasion  a  great  constancy  of  mind, 
when  you  lost  your  eldest  son;  and  again,  when  the 
lovely  Chaeron  left  us.  For  I  remember,  when  the  news 
was  brought  me  of  my  ^  son’s  death,  as  I  was  returning 
home  with  some  friends  and  guests  who  accompanied  me 
to  my  house,  when  they  beheld  all  things  in  order,  and 
observed  a  profound  silence  everywhere, —  as  they  after¬ 
wards  declared  to  others,  —  they  thought  no  such  calamity 
had  happened,  but  that  the  report  was  false.  So  discreetly 
had  you  settled  the  affairs  of  the  house  at  that  time,  when 
no  small  confusion  and  disorder  might  have  been  expected. 
And  yet  you  gave  this  son  suck  yourself,  and  endured  the 
lancing  of  your  breast,  to  prevent  the  ill  effects  of  a  contu¬ 
sion.  These  are  things  worthy  of  a  generous  woman,  and 
one  that  loves  her  children. 

6.  Whereas,  we  see  most  other  women  receive  their 
children  in  their  hands  as  playthings  with  a  feminine 
mirth  and  jollity ;  and  afterwards,  if  they  chance  to  die, 
they  will  drench  themselves  in  the  most  vain  and  exces¬ 
sive  sorrow.  Not  that  this  is  any  effect  of  their  love,  for 
that  gentle  passion  acts  regularly  and  discreetly ;  but  it 
rather  proceeds  from  a  desire  of  vain-glory,  mixed  with 
a  little  natural  affection,  which  renders  their  mourning  bar¬ 
barous,  brutish,  and  extravagant.  Which  thing  Aesop 
knew  very  well,  when  he  told  the  story  of  Jupiter’s  giving 
honors  to  the  Gods ;  for,  it  seems,  Grief  also  made  her  de¬ 
mands,  and'it  was  granted  that  she  should  be  honored,  but 
only  by  those  who  were  willing  of  their  own  accord  to  do 
it.  And  indeed,  this  is  the  beginning  of  sorrow.  Every¬ 
body  first  gives  her  free  access  ;  and  after  she  is  once  rooted 
and  settled  and  become  familiar,  she  will  not  be  forced 
thence  with  their  best  endeavors.  Therefore  she  must  be 
resisted  at  her  first  approach ;  nor  must  we  surrender  the 
fort  to  her  by  any  exterior  signs,  whether  of  apparel,  or 


410 


PLUTARCH’S  CONSOLATORY  LETTER 


shaving  the  hair,  or  any  other  such  like  symptoms  of 
mournful  weakness ;  which  happening  daily,  and  wound¬ 
ing  us  by  degrees  with  a  kind  of  foolish  bashfulness,  at 
length  do  so  enervate  the  mind,  and  reduce  her  to  such 
straits,  that  quite  dejected  and  besieged  with  grief,  the 
poor  timorous  wretch  dare  not  be  merry,  or  see  the  light, 
or  eat  and  drink  in  company.  This  inconvenience  is  ac¬ 
companied  by  a  neglect  of  the  body,  carelessness  of  anoint¬ 
ing  and  bathing,  with  whatsoever  else  relates  to  the 
elegancy  of  human  life.  Whereas,  on  the  contrary,  the 
soul,  when  it  is  disordered,  ought  to  receive  aid  from 
the  vigor  of  a  healthful  body.  For  the  sharpest  edge  of  the 
soul’s  grief  is  rebated  and  slacked,  when  the  body  is  in 
tranquillity  and  ease,  like  the  sea  in  a  calm.  But  where, 
from  an  ill  course  of  diet,  the  body  becomes  dry  and  hot, 
so  that  it  cannot  supply  the  soul  with  commodious  and 
serene  spirits,  but  only  breathes  forth  melancholy  vapors 
and  exhalations,  which  perpetually  annoy  her  with  grief 
and  sadness  ;  there  it  is  difficult  for  a  man  (though  never  so 
willing  and  desirous)  to  recover  the  tranquillity  of  his 
mind,  after  it  has  been  disturbed  with  so  many  evil 
affections. 

7.  But  that  which  is  most  to  be  dreaded  in  this  case  does 
not  at  all  affrighten  me,  to  wit,  the  visits  of  foolish  women, 
and  their  accompanying  you  in  your  tears  and  lamenta¬ 
tions  ;  by  which  they  sharpen  your  grief,  not  suffering  it 
either  of  itself  or  by  the  help  of  others  to  fade  and  vanish 
away.  ,For  I  am  not  ignorant  how  great  a  combat  you 
lately  entered,  when  you  assisted  the  sister  of  Theon,  and 
opposed  the  women  who  came  running  in  with  horrid  cries 
and  lamentations,  bringing  fuel  as  it  were  to  her  passion. 
Assuredly,  when  men  see  their  neighbor’s  house  on  fire, 
every  one  contributes  his  utmost  to  quench  it ;  but  when 
they  see  the  mind  inflamed  with  furious  passion,  they  bring 
fuel  to  nourish  and  increase  the  flame.  When  a  man’s 


TO  HIS  WIFE. 


411 


eye  is  in  pain,  he  is  not  suffered  to  touch  it,  though  the 
inflammation  provoke  him  to  it,  nor  will  they  that  are  near 
him  meddle  with  it.  But  he  who  is  galled  with  grief  sits 
and  exposes  his  distemper  to  every  one,  like  waters  that 
all  may  poach  in  ;  and  so  that  which  at  first  seemed  a  light 
itching  or  trivial  smart,  by  much  fretting  and  provoking, 
becomes  a  great  and  almost  incurable  disease.  But  I 
know  very  well  that  you  will  arm  yourself  against  these 
inconveniences. 

8.  Moreover,  I  would  have  you  endeavor  to  call  often  to 
mind  that  time  when  our  daughter  was  not  as  yet  born  to 
us,  and  when  we  had  no  cause  to  complain  of  Fortune. 
Then,  joining  that  time  with  this,  argue  thus  with  your¬ 
self,  that  we  are  now  in  the  same  condition  as  then. 

Otherwise,  dear  wife,  we  shall  seem  discontented  at  the 

/ 

birth  of  our  little  daughter,  if  we  own  that  our  circum¬ 
stances  were  better  before  her  birth.  But  the  two  years 
of  her  life  are  by  no  means  to  be  forgotten  by  us,  but  to 
be  numbered  amongst  our  blessings,  in  that  they  afforded 
us  an  agreeable  pleasure.  Nor  must  we  esteem  a  small 
good  for  a  great  evil  ,*  nor  ungratefully  complain  against 
Fortune  for  what  she  has  actually  given  us,  because  she 
has  not  added  what  we  wished  for.  Certainly,  to  speak 
reverently  of  the  Gods,  and  to  bear  our  lot  with  an  even 
mind  without -accusing  Fortune,  always  brings  with  it  a 
fair  reward.  But  he  who  in  such  a  case  calls  prosperous 
things  to  mind,  and  turning  his  thoughts  from  dark  and 
melancholy  objects,  fixes  them  on  bright  and  cheerful  ones, 
will  either  quite  extinguish  his  grief,  or  by  allaying  it  with 
contrary  sentiments,  wdll  render  it  weak  and  feeble.  For, 
as  perfumes  bring  delight  to  the  nose,  and  arm  it  against 
ill  scents,  so  the  remembrance  of  happiness  gives  necessary 
assistance  in  adversity  to  those  who  avoid  not  the  recollec¬ 
tion  of  their  past  prosperity  nor  complain  at  all  against 
Fortune.  For  certainly  it  would  little  become  us  to  accuse 


412 


PLUTAKCH’S  CONSOLATORY  LETTER 


our  life,  if  like  a  book  it  bath  but  one  little  blot  in  it, 
though  all  the  rest  be  fair  and  clean. 

9.  For  you  have  oftentimes  heard,  that  true  happiness 
consists  in  the  right  discourses  and  counsels  of  the  mind, 
tending  to  its  own  constant  establishment,  and  that  the 
changes  of  Fortune  are  of  no  great  importance  to  the  feli¬ 
city  of  our  life.  But  even  if  we  must  also  be  governed  by 
exterior  things,  and  with  the  common  sort  of  people  have 
a  regard  to  casualties,  and  suffer  any  kind  of  men  to  be 
judges  of  our  happiness,  however,  do  not  you  take  notice 
of  the  tears  and  moans  of  such  as  visit  you  at  present, 
condoling  your  misfortunes ;  for  their  tears  and  sighs  are 
but  of  course.  But  rather,  do  you  consider  how  happy 
every  one  of  them  esteems  you  for  the  children  you  have, 
the  house  you  keep,  and  the  life  you  lead.  For  it  would 
be  an  ill  thing,  while  others  covet  your  fortune,  though 
sullied  with  this  affliction,  that  you  should  exclaim  against 
what  you  enjoy,  and  not  be  sensible,  from  the  taste  of 
affliction,  how  grateful  you  ought  to  be  for  the  happiness 
which  remains  untouched.  Or,  like  some  who,  collecting 
all  the  defective  verses  of  Homer,  pass  over  at  the  same 
time  so  many  excellent  parts  of  his  poems,  so  shall  we 
peevishly  complain  of  and  reckon  up  the  inconveniences 
of  our  life,  neglecting  at  the  same  time  promiscuously  the 
benefits  thereof'?  Or,  shall  we  imitate  covetous  and  sordid 
misers,  who,  having  heaped  together  much  riches,  never 
enjoy  what  they  have  in  possession,  but  bewail  it  if  it 
chance  to  be  lost  ? 

But  if  you  lament  the  poor  girl  because  she  died  unmar¬ 
ried  and  without  offspring,  you  have  wherewithal  to  com¬ 
fort  yourself,  in  that  you  are  defective  in  none  of  these 
things,  having  had  your  share.  And  these  are  not  to  be 
esteemed  at  once  great  evils  where  they  are  wanted,  and 
small  benefits  where  they  are  enjoyed.  But  so  long  as  she 
is  gone  to  a  place  where  she  feels  no  pain,  what  need  is 


TO  HIS  WIFE. 


413 


there  of  our  grief?  For  what  harm  can  befall  us  from 
her,  when  she  is  free  from  all  hurt  ?  And  surely  the  loss 
of  even  great  things  abates  the  grief,  when  it  is  come  to 
this,  that  we  have  no  need  or  use  of  them.  But  thy 
Timoxena  was  deprived  but  of  small  matter;  for  she  had 
no  knowledge  but  of  such,  neither  took  she  delight  but  in 
such  small  things.  But  for  that  which  she  never  was  sen¬ 
sible  of,  and  which  did  not  so  much  as  once  enter  into  her 
thoughts,  how  can  you  say  it  is  taken  from  her  ? 

10.  As  for  what  you  hear  others  say,  who  persuade  the 
vulgar  that  the  soul,  Avhen  once  freed  from  the  body,  suf¬ 
fers  no  inconvenience  or  evil  nor  is  sensible  at  all,  I  know 
that  you  are  better  grounded  in  the  doctrines  delivered 
down  to  us  from  our  ancestors,  as  also  in  the  sacred  mys¬ 
teries  of  Bacchus,  than  to  believe  such  stories ;  for  the 
religious  symbols  are  well  known  to  us  who  are  of  the 
fraternity.  Therefore  be  assured,  that  the  soul,  being  in¬ 
capable  of  death,  is  affected  in  the  same  manner  as  birds 
that  are  kept  in  a  cage.  For  if  she  has  been  a  long  time 
educated  and  cherished  in  the  body,  and  by  long  custom 
has  been  made  familiar  with  most  things  of  this  life,  she 
will  (though  separable)  return  again,  and  at  length  enter 
the  body  ;  nor  ceaseth  it  by  new  births  now  and  then  to  be 
entangled  in  the  chances  and  events  of  this  life.  For  do 
not  think  that  old  age  is  therefore  evil  spoken  of  and 
blamed,  because  it  is  accompanied  with  wrinkles,  gray 
hairs,  and  weakness  of  body.  But  this  is  the  most  trouble¬ 
some  thing  in  old  age,  that  it  maketh  the  soul  weak  in  its 
remembrance  of  divine  things,  and  too  earnest  for  things 
relating  to  the  body ;  thus  it  bendeth  and  boweth,  retain¬ 
ing  that  form  which  it  took  of  the  body.  But  that  which 
is  taken  away  in  youth,  being  more  soft  and  tractable,  soon 
returns  to  its  native  vigor  and  beauty.  Just  as  fire  that  is 
quenched,  if  it  be  forthwith  kindled  again,  sparkles  and 
burns  out  immediately.  ...  So  most  speedily 


414 


PLUTARCH’S  LETTER  TO  HIS  WIFE. 


^Twere  good  to  pass  the  gates  of  death,* 

before  too  great  a  love  of  bodily  and  earthly  things  be  en¬ 
gendered  in  the  soul,  and  it  become  soft  and  tender  by 
being  used  to’  the  body,  and  (as  it  were)  by  charms  and 
potions  incorporated  with  it. 

11.  But  the  truth  of  this  will  appear  in  the  laws  and 
traditions  received  from  our  ancestors.  For  when  children 
die,  no  libations  nor  sacrifices  are  made  for  them,  nor  any 
other  of  those  ceremonies  which  are  wont  to  be  performed 
for  the  dead.  For  infants  have  no  part  of  earth  or  earthly 
affections.  Nor  do  we  hover  or  tarry  about  their  sepulchres 
or  monuments,  or  sit  by  when  their  dead  bodies  are  ex- 

_  I 

posed.  The  laws  of  our  country  forbid  this,  and  teach  us 
that  it  is  an  impious  thing  to  lament  for  those  whose  souls 
pass  immediately  into  a  better  and  more  divine  state. 
Wherefore,  since  it  is  safer  to  give  credit  to  our  tradi¬ 
tions  than  to  call  them  in  question,  let  us  comply  with  the 
custom  in  outward  and  public  behavior,  and  let  our  inte¬ 
rior  be  more  unpolluted,  pure,  and  holy.  .  .  . 

*  See  n.  V.  646  ;  XXIII.  71. 


I 

M 

■Cl 


AGAINST  RUNNING  IN  DEBT,  OR  TAKING  UP  MONEY 

UPON  USURY. 


I .  Plato  in  his  Laws  *  permits  not  any  one  to  go  and 
draw  water,  from  his  neighbor’s  well,  who  has  not  first 
digged  and  sunk  a  pit  in  his  own  ground  till  he  is  come  to 
a  vein  of  clay,  and  has  by  his  sounding  experimented  that 
the  place  will  not  yield  a  spring.  For  the  clay  or  ' potter’s 
earth,  being  of  its  own  nature  fatty,  solid,  and  strong, 
retains  the  moisture  it  receives,  and  will  not  let  it  soak  or 
pierce  through.  But  it  must  be  lawful  for  them  to  take 
water  from  another’s  ground,  when  there  is  no  way  or 
means  for  them  to  find  any  in  their  own  ;  for  the  law  ought 
to  provide  for  men’s  necessity,  but  not  favor  their  laziness. 
Should  there  not  be  the  like  ordinance  also  concerning 
money ;  that  none  should  be  allowed  to  borrow  upon 
usury,  nor  to  go  and  dive  into  other  men’s  purses,  —  as 
it  were  into  their  wells  and  fountains,  —  before  they  have 
first  searched  at  home  and  sounded  every  means  for  the 
obtaining  it ;  having  collected  (as  it  were)  and  gathered 
together  all  the  gutters  and  springs,  to  try  if  they  can 
draw  from  them  what  may  suffice  to  supply  their  most 
necessary  occasions?  But  on  the  contrary,  many  there 
are  who,  to  defray  their  idle  expenses  and  to  satisfy  their 
extravagant  and  superfluous  delights,  make  not  use  of 
their  own,  but  have  recourse  to  others,  running  themselves 
deeply  into  debt  without  any  necessity.  Now  this  may 


*  Plato,  Laws,  VIII.  p.  844  B. 


416 


AGAINST  BUNNING  IN  DEBT. 


easily  be  judged,  if  ^ one  does  but  consider  that  usurers  do 
not  ordinarily  lend  to  those  which  are  in  distress,  but  only 
to  such  as  desire  to  obtain  somewhat  that  is  superfluous 
and  of  which  they  stand  not  in  need.  So  that  the  credit 
given  by  the  lender  is  a  testimony  sufficiently  proving 
that  the  borrower  has  of  his  own ;  whereas  on  the  con¬ 
trary,  since  he  has  of  his  own,  he  ought  to  keep  himself 
from  borrowing. 

2.  Why  shouldst  thou  go  and  make  thy  court  to  a 
banker  or  a  merchant'?  Borrow  from  thine  own  table. 
Thou  hast  tankards,  dishes,  and  basins  of  silver.  Make 
use  of  them  for  thy  necessity,  and  when  they  are  gone  to  sup 
ply  thy  wants,  the  pleasant  town  of  Aulis  or  isle  of  Tenedos 
will  again  refurnish  thy  board  with  fair  vessels  of  earth,  far 
more  cleanly  and  neat  than  those  of  silver.  For  they  are 
not  scented  with  the  strong  and  unpleasant  smell  of  usury, 
which,  like  rust,  daily  more  and  more  sullies  and  tarnishes 
the  lustre  of  thy  sumptuous  magnificence.  They  will  not  be 
every  day  putting  thee  in  mind  of  the  Kalends  and 
new  moons,  which,  being  of  themselves  the  most  holy 
and  sacred  days  of  the  months,  are  by  reason  of  usuries 
rendered  the  most  odious  and  accursed.  For  as  to  those 
who  choose  rather  to  carry  their  goods  to  the  brokers  and 
there  lay  them  in  pawn  for  money  taken  upon  usury  than 
to  sell  them  outright,  I  do  not  believe  that  Jupiter  Ctesius 
himself  can  preserve  them  from  beggary.  They  are 
ashamed  forsooth  to  receive  the  full  price  and  value  of 
their  goods ;  but  they  are  not  ashamed  to  pay  use  for 
the  money  they  have  borrowed  on  them.  And  yet  the 
great  and  wise  Pericles  caused  that  costly  ornament  of 
fine  gold,  weighing  about  forty  talents,  with  which  Mi¬ 
nerva’s  statue  was  adorned,  to  be  made  in  such  a  manner 
that  he  could  take  it  off  and  on  at  his  pleasure ;  to  the 
end  (said  he)  that  when  we  shall  stand  in  need  of  money 
to  support  the  charges  of  war,  we  may  take  it  and  make 


AGAINST  RUNNING  IN  DEBT, 


417 


use  of  it,  putting  afterwards  in  its  pla^e  another  of  no  less 
value.  Thus  we  ought  in  our  affairs,  as  in  a  besieged 
town,  never  to  admit  or  receive  the  hostile  garrison  of  a 
usurer,  nor  to  endure  before  our  eyes  the  delivering  up 
of  our  goods  into  perpetual  servitude  ;  but  rather  to  cut 
off  from  our  table  what  is  neither  necessary  nor  profitable, 
and  in  like  manner  from  our  beds,  our  couches,  and  our 
ordinary  expenses,  and  so  to  keep  ourselves  free  and  at  lib¬ 
erty,  in  hopes  to  restore  again  what  we  shall  have  re¬ 
trenched,  if  Fortune  shall  hereafter  smile  upon  us. 

3.  The  Roman  ladies  heretofore  willingly  parted  with 
their  jewels  and  ornaments  of  gold,  for  the  making  a  cup 
to  be  sent  as  an  offering  to  the  temple  of  Apollo  Pythius 
in  the  city  of  Delphi.  And  the  Carthaginian  matrons  did 
with  their  own  hands  cut  the  hair  from  their  heads,  to 
make  cords  for  the  managing  of  their  warlike  engines  and 
instruments,  in  defence  of  their  besieged  city.  But  we,  as 
if  we  were  ashamed  of  being  able  to  stand  on  our  own 
legs  without  being  supported  by  the  assistance  of  others, 
go  and  enslave  ourselves  by  engagements  and  obligations  ; 
whereas  it  were  much  better  that,  restraining  our  ambition 
and  confining  it  to  what  is  profitable  for  us,  we  should  of 
our  useless  and  superfluous  plate,  which  we  should  either 
melt  or  sell,  build  a  temple  of  Liberty  for  ourselves,  our 
wives,  and  our  children.  The  Goddess  Diana  in  the  city 
of  Ephesus  gives  to  such  debtors  as  can  fly  into  her  temple 
freedom  and  protection  against  their  creditors  ;  but  the 
sanctuary^  of  parsimony  and  moderation  in  expenses,  in¬ 
to  which  no  usurer  can  enter  to  pluck  thence  and  carry 
away  any  debtor  prisoner,  is  always  open  for  the  prudent, 
and  affords  them  a  long  and  large  space  of  joyful  and 
honorable  repose.  For  as  the  prophetess  which  gave 
oracles  in  the  temple  of  the  Pythian  Apollo,-  about  the 
time  of  the  Persian  wars,  answered  the  Athenians,  that 
God  had  for  their  safety  given  them  a  wall  of  wood,  upon 


418 


OR  TAKING  UP  MONEY  UPON  USURY. 


which,  forsaking  th^ir  lauds,  their  city,  their  houses,  and 
all  their  goods,  they  had  recourse  to  their  ships  for  the 
preservation  of  their  liberty  ;  so  God  gives  us  a  table  of 
wood,  vessels  of  earth,  and  garments  of  coarse  cloth,  if 
we  desire  to  live  and  continue  in  freedom. 

Aim  not  at  gilded  coaches,  steeds  of  price, 

And  harness,  richly  wrought  with  quaint  device ; 


for  how  swiftly  soever  they  may  run,'  yet  will  usuries  over¬ 
take  them  and  outrun  them. 

Take  rather  the  first  ass  thou  shalt  meet  or  the  first  pack- 
horse  that  shall  come  in  thy  way,  and  fly  from  that  cruel  and 
tyrannical  enemy  the  usurer,  who  asks  thee  not  earth  and 
water,  as  heretofore  did  the  barbarous  king  of  Persia,  but 
—  which  is  worse  —  touches  thy  liberty,  and  wounds  thy 
honor  by  proscriptions.  If  thou  payest  him  not,  he  troubles 
thee  ;  if  thou  hast  wherewithal  to  satisfy  him,  he  will  not 
receive  it,  unless  it  be  his  pleasure.  If  thou  sellest,  he  will 
have  thy  goods  for  nothing,  or  at  a  very  under  rate ;  and 
if  thou  wilt  not  sell,  he  will  force  thee  to  it ;  if  thou  suest 
him,  he  speaks  to  thee  of  an  accommodation  ;  if  thou 
swearest  to  give  him  content,  he  will  domineer  over  thee  ; 
if  thou  goest  to  his  house  to  discourse  with  him,  he  shuts 
his  door  against  thee  ;  if  thou  stayest  at  home,  he  is  always 
knocking  at  thy  door  and  will  never  stir  from  thee. 

4.  Of  what  use  to  the  Athenians  was  the  decree  of 
Solon,  by  which  he  ordained  that  the  body  should  not  be 
obliged  for  any  public  debt?  For  they  who  owe  are  in 
bondage  to  all  bankers,  and  not  to  them  alone  (for  then 
there  would  be  no  great  hurt),  but  to  their  very  slaves, 
who  are  proud,  insolent,  barbarous,  and  outrageous,  and  in 
a  word  exactly  such  as  Plato  describes  the  devils  and 
fiery  executioners  to  be,  who  in  hell  torment  the  souls 
of  the  wicked.  For  thus  do  these  wretched  usurers  make 
the  court  where  justice  is  administered  a  hell  to  the  poor 


I 


AGAINST  RUNNING  IN  DEBT,  419 

\ 

debtors,  preying  on  some  and  gnawing  them,  vulture-like, 
to  the  very  bones,  and 

Piercing  into  their  entrails  with  sharp  beaks ;  * 

and  standing  over  others,  who  are,  like  so  many  Tantaluses, 
prohibited  by  them  from  tasting  the  corn  and  fruits  of  their 
own  ground  and  drinking  the  wine  of  their  own  vintage. 
And  as  King  Darius  sent  to  the  city  of  Athens  his  lieu¬ 
tenants  Datis  and  Artaphernes  with  chains  and  cords,  to 
bind  the  prisoners  they  should  take ;  so  these  usurers,  bring- 
ing  into  Greece  boxes  full  of  schedules,  bills,  and  obliga¬ 
tory  contracts,  as  so  many  irons  and  fetters  for  the 
shackling  of  poor  criminals,  go  through  the  cities,  sow¬ 
ing  in  them,  as  they  pass,  not  good  and  profitable  seed,  — 
as  did  heretofore  Triptolemus,  when  he  went  through  all 
places  teaching  the  people  to  sow  corn,  —  but  roots  and 
grains  of  debts,  that  produce  infinite  labors  and  intoler¬ 
able  usuries,  of  which  the  end  can  never  be  found,  and 
which,  eating  their  way  and  spreading  their  sprouts  round 
about,  do  in  fine  make  cities  bend  under  the  burden,  till 
they  come  to  be  suffocated.  They  say  that  hares  at  the 
same  time  suckle  one  young  leveret,  are  ready  to  kindle 
and  bring  forth  another,  and  conceive  a  third  ;  but  the 
usuries  of  these  barbarous  and  wicked  usurers  bring  forth 
before  they  conceive.  For  at  the  very  delivery  of  their 
money,  they  immediately  ask  it  back,  taking  it  up  at  the 
same  moment  the/  lay  it  down  ;  and  they  let  out  that 
again  to  interest  which  they  take  for  the  use  of  what  they 
have  before  lent. 

5.  It  is  a  saying  among  the  Messenians, 

Pylos  before  Pylos,  and  Pylos  still  you’ll  find ; 

but  it  may  much  better  be  said  against  the  usurers, 

Use  before  use,  and  use  still  more  you’ll  find. 

So  that  they  laugh  at  those  natural  philosophers  who  hold 


*  Odyss.  XI.  578. 


420 


OR  TAKING  UP  MONEY  UPON  USURY. 


that  nothing  can  be  made  of  nothing  and  of  that  which 
has  no  existence ;  but  with  them  usury  is  made  and  en¬ 
gendered  of  that  which  neither  is  nor  ever  was.  They 
think  the  taking  to  farm  the  customs  and  other  public 
tributes,  which  the  laws  nevertheless  permit,  to  be  a 
shame  and  reproach  ;  and  yet  themselves  on  the  contrary, 
in  opposition  to  all  the  laws  in  the  world,  make  men  pay 
tribute  for  what  they  lend  upon  interest ;  or  rather,  if 
truth  may  be  spoken,  do  in  the  very  letting  out  their 
money  to  use,  basely  deceive  their  debtor.  For  the  poor 
debtor,  who  receives  less  than  he  acknowledges  in  his 
obligation,  is  falsely  and  dishonestly  cheated.  And  the 
Persians  indeed  repute  lying  to  be  a  sin  only  in  a  second 
degree,  but  to  be  in  debt  they  repute  to  be  in  the  first ; 
forasmuch  as  lying  frequently  attends  those  that  owe.  Now 
there  are  not  in  the  whole  world  any  people  who  are 
oftener  guilty  of  lying  than  usurers,  nor  that  practise  more 
unfaithfulness  in  their  day-books,  in  which  they  set  down 
that  they  have  delivered  such  a  sum  of  money  to  such  a 
person,  to  whom  they  have  not  given  nigh  so  much.  And 
the  moving  cause  of  their  lying  is  pure  avarice,  not  want 
or  poverty,  but  an  insatiable  desire  of  always  having  more, 
the  end  of  which  is  neither  pleasurable  nor  profitable  to 
themselves,  but  ruinous  and  destructive  to  those  whom 
they  injure.  For  they  neither  cultivate  the  lands  of  which 
they  deprive  their  debtors,  nor  inhabit  the  houses  out  of 
which  they  eject  them,  nor  eat  at  the  tables  which  they 
take  away  from  them,  nor  wear  the  clothes  of  which  they 
strip  them.  But  first  one  is  destroyed,  and  then  a  second 
soon  follows,  being  drawn  on  and  allured  by  the  former. 
For  the  mischief  spreads  like  wildfire,  still  consuming, 
and  yet  still  increasing  by  the  destruction  and  ruin  of  those 
that  fall  into  it,  whom  it  devours  one  after  another.  And 
the  usurer  who  maintains  this  fire,  blowing  and  kindling  it 
to  the  undoing  of  so  many  people,  reaps  no  other  advan- 


AGAINST  RUNNING  IN  DEBT, 


421 


tage  from  it  but  only  that  he  now  and  then  takes  his  book 
of  accounts,  and  reads  in  it  how  many  poor  debtors  he  has 
caused  to  sell  what  they  had,  how  many  he  has  dispos¬ 
sessed  of  their  lands  and  livings,  whenqp  his  money  came 
which  he  is  always  turning,  winding,  and  increasing. 

6.  Think  not  that  I  speak  this  for  any  ill-will  or  enmity 
that  I  have  borne  against  usurers ; 

For  never  did  they  drive  away 
My  horses  'or  my  kine.* 

But  my  only  aim  is  to  show  those  who  are  so  ready  to  take 
up  money  upon  use,  how  much  shame  and  slavery  there  is 
in  it,  and  how  it  proceeds  only  from  extreme  folly,  sloth, 
and  effeminacy  of  heart.  For  if  thou  hast  of  thy  own, 
borrow  not,  since  thou  hast  no  need  of  it ;  and  if  thou 
hast  nothing,  borrow  not,  because  thou  wilt  not  have  any 
means  to  pay.  But  let  us  consider  the  one  and  the  other 
apart.  The  elder  Cato  said  to  a  certain  old  man,  who 
behaved  himself  ill :  My  friend,  seeing  old  age  has  of 
itself  so  many  evils,  why  dost  thou  go  about  to  add  to 
them  the  reproach  and  shame  of  wickedness?  In  like 
manner  may  we  say  to  a 'man  oppressed  with  poverty: 
Since  poverty  has  of  itself  so  many  and  so  great  miseries, 
do  not  heap  upon  them  the  anguishes  of  borrowing  and 
being  in  debt.  Take  not  from  poverty  the  only  good  thing 
in  which  it  is  superior  to  riches,  to  wit,  freedom  from  pen¬ 
sive  care.  Otherwise  thou  wilt  subject  thyself  to  the  deri¬ 
sion  of  the  common  proverb,  which  says, 

A  goat  I  cannot  bear  away, 

Tlierefore  an  ox  upon  me  lay. 

Thou  canst  not  bear  poverty,  and  yet  thou  art  going  to  load 
on  thyself  a  usurer,  which  is  a  burden  even  to  a  rich  man 
insupportable. 

But  you  will  say  perhaps,  how  then  would  you  have 
me  tc  live?  Is  this  a  question  fit  for  thee  to  ask,  who  hast 


*  II.  I.  154. 


422 


OK  TAKING  UP  MONEY  UPON  USUKT. 


y 


hands,  feet,  and  a  voice,  who  in  brief  art  a  man,  whose 
property  it  is  to  love  and  be  beloved,  to  do  and  receive  a 
courtesy  ?  Canst  thou  not  teach,  bring  up  young  children, 
be  a  porter  or  doorkeeper,  travel  by  sea,  serve  in  a  ship'? 
There  is  in  all  these  nothing  more  shameful  or  odious,  than 
to  be  dunned  with  the  importunate  clamors  of  such  as  are 
always  saying.  Pay  me,  give  me  my  money. 

1.  llutilius  that  rich  Roman,  coming  one  day  to  Muso- 
nius  the  philosopher,  whispered  him  thus  in  his  ear : 
Musonius,  Jupiter  the  Savior,  whom  you  philosophers 
profess  to  imitate  and  follow,  takes  not  up  money  at  in¬ 
terest.  Musonius  smiling  presently  answered  him:  Nor 
yet  does  he  lend  for  use.  For  this  Rutilius,  who  was  him¬ 
self  an  usurer,  upbraided  the  other  with  borrowing  upon 
use.  Now  what  a  foolish  stoical  arrogance  was  this.  For 
what  need  was  there  of  bringing  here  Jupiter  the  Savior, 
when  he  might  have  given  him  the  same  admonition  by 
things  that  were  familiar  and  before  his  eyes  ?  Swallows 
run  not  themselves  into  debt,  ants  borrow  not  upon  inter¬ 
est  ;  and  yet  Nature  has  given  them  neither  reason,  hands, 
nor  art.  But  she  has  endued  men  with  such  abundance  of 
understanding,  that  they  maintain  not  only  themselves,  but 
also  horses,  dogs,  partridges,  hares,  and  jays.  Why  then 
dost  thou  condemn  thyself,  as  if  thou  wert  less  able  to 
persuade  than  a  jay,  more  dumb  than  a  partridge,  and 
more  ungenerous  than  a  dog,  in  that  thou  couldst  not 
oblige  any  man  to  be  assistant  to  thee,  either  by  serving 
him,  charming  him,  guarding  him,  or  fighting  in  his  de¬ 
fence?  Dost  thou  not  see  how  many  occasions  the  land, 
and  how  many  the  sea  affords  thee  for  thy  maintenance? 
Hear  also  what  Crates  says : 

Here  I  saw  Miccylus  the  wool  to  card, 

Whilst  his  wife  spun,  that  they  by  labor  hard 
In  these  hard  times  might  ’scape  the  hungry  jaws 
Of  famine. 

King  Antigonus,  when  he  had  not  for  a  long  time  seen 


/ 


AGAINST  RUNNING  IN  DEBT, 


423 


# 

Cleanthes  the  philosopher,  said  to  him,  Dost  thou  yet,  O 
Cleanthes,  continue  to  grind]  Yes,  sir,  replied  Cleanthes, 
I  still  grind,  and  that  I  do  to  gain  my  living  and  not  to 
depart  from  philosophy.  How  great  and  generous  was  the 
courage  of  this  man,  who,  coming  from  the  mill  and  the 
kneadiLg-trough,  did  with  the  same  hand  which  had  been 
employed  in  turning  the  stone  and  moulding  the  dough, 
write  of  the  nature  of  the  Gods,  moon,  stars,  and  sun ! 
And  yet  we  think  these  to  be  servile  works. 

Therefore,  forsooth,  that  we  may  be  free,  we  take  up 
money  at  interest,  and  to  this  purpose  flatter  base  and  ser¬ 
vile  persons,  wait  on  them,  treat  them,  make  them  presents, 
and  pay  them  pensions ;  and  this  we  do,  not  being  com¬ 
pelled  by  poverty  (for  no  usurer  will  lend  a  poor  man 
money)  but  to  gratify  our  prodigality.  For  if  ^ve  would 
be  content  with  such  things  as  are  necessary  for  human 
life,  usurers  would  be  no  less  rare  in  the  world  than  Cen¬ 
taurs  and  Gorgons.  But  luxury  and  excess,  as  it  produced 
goldsmiths,  silversmiths,  perfumers,  and  dyers  of  curious 
colors,  so  has  it  also  brought  forth  usurers.  For  we  run 
not  into  debt  for  bread  and  wine,  but  for  the  purchasing 
of  stately  seats,  numerous  slaves,  flne  mules,  costly  ban¬ 
queting  halls,  rich  tables,  and  for  all  those  foolish  and 
superfluous  expenses  to  which  we  frequently  put  ourselves 
for  the  exhibiting  of  plays  to  the  people,  or  some  such  vain 
ambition,  from  which  we  frequently  reap  no  other  fruit 
but  ingratitude.  Now  he  that  is  once  entangled  in  usury 
remains  a  debtor  all  his  life,  not  unlike  in  this  to  the 
horse,  who,  having  once  taken  the  bridle  into  his  mouth 
and  the  saddle  on  his  back,  receives  one  rider  after  an¬ 
other.  Nor  is  there  any  means  for  these  debtors  to  make 
their  escape  into  those  fair  pastures  and  meadows  which 
once  they  enjoyed,  but  they  wander  about,  like  those  Dae¬ 
mons  mentioned  by  Empedocles  to  have  been  driven  out 
of  heaven  by  the  offended  Gods : 


424  OR  TAKING  UP  MONEY  UPON  USURY. 

\ 

By  the  sky’s  force  they’re  thrust  into  the  main. 

Which  to  the  earth  soon  spews  them  back  again. 

Thence  to  bright  Titan’s  orb  they’re  forced  to  fly, 

And  Titan  soon  remits  them  to  the  sky. 

In  like  manner  do  such  men  fall  from  the  hand  of  one 
usurer  or  hanker  to  another,  sometimes  of  a  Corinthian, 
sometimes  of  a  Patrian,  sometimes  of  an  Athenian,  till, 
having  been  deceived  and  cheated  by  all,  they  finally  find 
themselves  dissipated  and  torn  in  pieces  by  usury.  For  as 
he  who  is  fallen  into  the  dirt  must  either  rise  up  and  get 
out  of  it,  or  else  lie  still  in  the  place  into  which  he  first 
fell,  for  that  by  tumbling,  turning,  and  rolling  about,  he 
does  but  still  more  and  more  bemire  himself ;  so  also  those 
who  do  but  change  their  creditor,  and  cause  their  names  to 
be  transcribed  from  one  usurer’s  book  to  another’s,  do  by 
loading  and  embroiling  themselves  with  new  usuries  be¬ 
come  more  and  more  oppressed.  Now  in  this  they  proper¬ 
ly  resemble  persons  distempered  with  cholera,  who  cannot 
receive  any  medicine  sufficient  to  work  a  perfect  cure,  but 
continually  vomit  up  all  that  is  given  them,  and  sq  make 
way  for  the  choleric  humor  to  gather  more  and  more.  For 
in  the  same  manner  these  men  are  not  willing  to  be  cleansed 
at  once,  but  do  with  grievous  anguish  and  sorrow  pay  their 
use  at  every  season  of  the  year,  and  no  sooner  have  they 
discharged  one,  but  another  drops  and  stills  immediately 
after,  which  causes  them  both  aching  hearts  and  heads  ; 
whereas  they  should  have  taken  care  to  get  wholly  clear, 
that  they  might  remain  free  and  at  liberty. 

8.  For  I  now  turn  my  speech  to  those  who  are  more 
wealthy,  and  withal  more  nice  and  effeminate,  and  whose 
discourse  is  commonly  in  this  manner :  How  shall  I  re¬ 
main  then  without  servants,  without  fire,  and  without 
a  house  or  place  to  which  I  may  repair?  Now  this 
is  the  same  thing  as  if  one  who  is  sick  of  a  dropsy 
and  puffed  up  as  a  barrel  should  say  to  a  physician : 
How?  Would  you  have  me  become  slender,  lean,  and 


AGAINST  RUNNING  IN  DEBT, 


425 


empty  ]  And  why  not,  provided  you  thereby  get  your 
health?  Thus  it  is  better  you  should  be  without  servants, 
than  that  you  should  yourself  become  a  slave ;  and  that 
you  should  remain  without  possessions,  than  that  you 
should  be  made  the  possession  of  another.  Give  ear  a 
little  to  the  discourse  of  the  two  vultures,  as  it  is  reported 
in  the  fable.  One  of  them  was  taken  with  so  strong  a  lit 
of  vomiting,  that  he  said :  I  believe  I  shall  cast  up  my  very 
bowels.  Now  to  this  his  companion  answered  :  What  hiu't 
wall  there  be  in  it?  For  thou  wilt  not  indeed  throw  up 
thine  own  entrails,  but  those  of  the  dead  man  which  we 
devoured  the  other  day.  So  he  who  is  indebted  sells  not 
his  own  inheritance  nor  his  own  house,  but  that  of  the 
usurer  who  lent  him  the  money,  to  whom  by  the  law  he 
has  given  the  right  and  possession  of  them.'  Nay,  by  Ju¬ 
piter  (will  he  say  to  me)  ;  but  my  father  left  me  this  estate. 
I  believe  it  well,  but  he  left  thee  also  liberty  and  a  good 
repute,  of  which  thou  oughtest  to  make  more  account  and 
be  more  careful.  He  who  begat  thee  made  thy  foot  and 
thy  hand,  and  nevertheless,  if  they  happen  to  be  mortified, 
thou  wilt  give  money  to  the  chirurgeon  to  cut  them  off. 
Calypso  presented  Ulysses  with  a  robe  breathing  forth  the 
sweet-scented  odor  of  an  immortal  body,  which  she  put  on 
him,  as  a  token  and  memorial  of  the  love  she  had  borne 
him.  But  when  his  ship  was  cast  away  and  himself  ready 
to  sink  to  the  bottom,  not  being  able  to  keep  above  the 
water  by  reason  of  his  wet  robe,  which  weighed  him  down¬ 
wards,  he  put  it  off  and  threw  it  away,  and  having  girt 
his  naked  breast  with  a  broad  swaddling  band. 

Swam,  gazing  on  the  distant  shore.* 

And  after Avards,  when  the  danger  Avas  over  and  he  seen  to 
be  landed,  he  wanted  neither  food  nor  raiment.  And  is 
it  not  a  true  tempest,  Avhen  the  usurer  after  some  time 


*  Odyss.  V.  439. 


426 


OR  TAKING  UP  MONEY  UPON  USURY. 


comes  to  assault  the  miserable  debtors  with  this  word  Pay  1 

} 

This  having  said,  the  clouds  grow  thick,  the  sea 
Is  troubled,  and  its  raging  waves  beat  high. 

Whilst  east,  south,  west  winds  through  the  welkin  flj.* 

I'hese  winds  are  use,  and  use  upon  use,  which  roll  one 
after  another ;  and  he  that  is  overwhelmed  by  them  and 
kept  down  by  their  weight  cannot  serve  himself  nor  make 
his  escape  by  swimming,  but  at  last  sinks  down  to  the 
bottom,  where  he  perishes,  carrying  with  him  his  friends 
who  were  pledges  and  sureties  for  him. 

Crates,  the  Theban  philosopher,  acted  far  otherwise ; 
for  owing  nothing,  and  consequently  not  being  pressed  for 
payment  by  any  creditor,  but  only  tired  with  the  cares  and 
troubles  of  housekeeping  and  the  solicitude  requisite  to 
the  management  of  his  estate,  he  left  a  patrimony  of  eight 
talents’  value,  and  taking  only  his  cloak  and  wallet,  re¬ 
tired  to  philosophy  and  poverty,  Anaxagoras  also  forsook 
his  plentiful  and  well-stocked  pastures.  But  what  need 
is  there  of  alleging  these  examples,  seeing  that  the  lyric 
poet  Philoxenus,  being  one  of  those  who  were  sent  to  peo¬ 
ple  a  new  city  and  new  land  in  Sicily,  where  there  fell  to 
his  share  a  good  house  and  great  wealth  with  which  he 
might  have  lived  well  at  his  ease,  yet  seeing  that  delights, 
pleasure,  and  idleness,  without  any  exercise  of  good  letters, 
reigned  in  those  quarters,  said :  These  goods,  by  all  the 
Gods,  shall  not  destroy  me,  but  I  will  rather  lose  them. 
And  immediately  leaving  to  others  the  portion  that  was 
allotted  to  himself,  he  again  took  shipping,  and  returned  to 
Athens.  Whereas  those  who  are  in  debt  bear  and  suffer 
themselves  to  be  sued,  taxed,  made  slaves  of,  and  cheated 
with  false  money,  feeding  like  King  Phineus  certain  winged 
harpies.  For  these  usurers  fly  to  them,  and  ravish  out  of 
their  hands  their  very  food.  Neither  yet  have  they  pa¬ 
tience  to  stay  and  expect  the  season ;  for  they  buy  their 

*  Odyss.  V.  29i,  295. 


I 


AGAINST  RUNNING  IN  DEBT. 

V 


427 


debtors’  corn  before  it  is  ready  for  harvest,  bargain  for  the 
oil  before  the  olives  are  ripe,  and  in  like  manner  for  their 
wines.  I  will  have  it,  says  the  usurer,  at  such  a  price  ; 
and  immediately  he  gets  the  writing  signed  ;  and  yet  the 
grapes  are  still  hanging  on  the  vine,  expecting  the  rising 
of  Arcturus. 


LACONIC  APOPHTHEGMS;  OR  REMARKABLE  SAYINGS 

'  OP  THE  SPARTANS. 


Of  Agasicles. 

Agasicles  the  Spartan  king,  when  one  wondered  why, 
since  he  was  a  great  lover  of  instruction,  he  would  not 
admit  Philophanes  the  Sophist,  freely  said,  I  ought  to  be 
their  scholar  whose  son  I  am.  And  to  one  enquiring  how 
a  governor  should  be  secure  without  guards,, he  replied, 
If  he  rules  his  subjects  as  fathers  do  their  sons. 

Of  Agesilaus  the  Great. 

Agesilaus  the  Great,  being  once  chosen  steward  of  a* 
feast,  and  asked  by  the  butler  how  much  wine  he  allowed 
every  guest,  returned :  If  you  have  a  great  deal  provided, 
as  much  as  every  one  calls  for ;  if  but  a  little,  give  them 
all  an  equal  share.  When  he  saw  a  malefactor  resolutely 
endure  his  torments.  How  great  a  rascal  is  this  fellow,  he 
cried  out,  that  uses  patience,  bravery,  and  courage,  in  such 
an  impious  and  dishonest  case !  To  one  commending  an 
orator  for  his  skill  in  amplifying  petty  matters  he  said,  I 
don’t  think  that  shoemaker  a  good  workman  that  makes  a 
great  shoe  for  a  little  foot.  When  one  in  discourse  said  to 
him.  Sir,  you  have  assented  to  such  a  thing  already,  and 
repeated  it  very  often,  he, replied.  Yes,  if  it  is  right;  but 
if  not,  I  said  so  indeed  but  never  assented.  And  the  other 
rejoining.  But,  sir,  a  king  is  obliged  to  perform  whatever 
he  hath  granted  by  his  nod ;  ^  No  more,  he  returned,  than 


»  II.  I.  627 


LACONIC  APOPHTHEGMS. 


429 


those  that  petition  him  are  bound  to  make  none  but  good 
and  just  requests,  and  to  consider  all^ circumstances  of  time 
and  what  befits  a  king.  'When  he  heard  any  praise  or 
censure,  he  thought  it  as  necessary  to  enquire  into  the 
character  of  those  that  spake  as  of  those  of  whom  they 
spake.  While  he  was  a  boy,  at  a  certain  solemnity  of 
naked  dancing,  the  person  that  ordered  that  affair  put  him 
in  a  dishonorable  place  ;  and  he,  though  already  declared 
king,  endured  it,  saying.  I’ll  show  that  it  is  not  the  places 
that  grace  men,  but  men  the  places.  To  a  physician  pre¬ 
scribing  him  a  nice  and  tedious  course  of  physic,  he  said. 
By  Castor  and  Pollux,  unless  I  am  destined  to  live  at  any 
rate,  I  surely  shall  not  if  I  take  all  this.  Whilst  he  stood 
by  the  altar  of  Minerva  Chalcioecus  sacrificing  an  ox,  a 
louse  bit  him.  At  this  he  never  blushed,  but  cracked  him 
before  the  whole  company,  adding  these  words.  By  all  the 
Gods,  it  is  pleasant  to  kill  a  plotter  at  the  very  altar.  An¬ 
other  time  seeing  a  boy  pull  a  mouse  by  the  tail  out  of  his 
hole,  and  the  mouse  turn  and  bite  the  boy’s  fingers  and  so 
escape ;  he  bade  his  companions  take  notice  of  it,  saying. 
If  so  little  a  creature  will  oppose  injurious  violence,  what 
think  ye  that  men  ought  to  do  1 

Bein^  easier  for  war  against  the  Persians  to  free  the 

O  O  o 

*  Asiatic  Greeks,  he  consulted  the  oracle  of  Jupiter  at  Do- 
dona  ;  and  that  telling  him  to  go  on  as  he  designed,  he 
brought  the  answer  to  the  Ephors,  upon  which  they  ordered 
him  to  go  to  Delphi  and  put  the  same  question.  He  went, 
and  put  it  in  this  form:  Apollo,  are  you  of  the  same  mind 
with  your  father'?  And  the  oracle  agreeing,  he  was  chosen 
general  and  the  war  began.  Now  Tissaphernes,  at  first 
being  afraid  of  Agesilaus,  came  to  articles,  and  agreed  that 
the  Greek  cities  should  be  free  and  left  to  their  own  laws ; 
but  afterward  procuring  a  great  army  from  the  king,  he 
declared  war  against  him  unless  he  should  presently  leave 
Asia.  Glad  of  this  treachery  of  Tissaphernes,  he  marched 


430 


LACONIC  APOPHTHEGMS. 


as  if  his  design  was  to  make  an  inroad  upon  Caria ;  but 
Avlien  Tissapliernes  had  brought  his  troops  thither,  he 
turned  upon  Phrygia,  and  took  a  great  many  cities  and 
abundance  of  rich  spoil,  saying  to  his  friend  :  To  break  one’s 
promise  is  indeed  impious  ;  but  to  outwit  an  enem'y  is  not 
only  just  and  glorious,  but  profitable  and  sweet.  Being 
inferior  to  the  enemy  jn  horse,  he  retreated  to  Ephesus,  and 
ordered  all  the  wealthy  to  provide  each  a  man  and  horse, 
which  should  excuse  them  from  personal  service  in  his 
wars.  By  which  means,  in  the  room  of  rich  cowards,  he 
was  soon  furnished  with  stout  men  and  able  horses ;  and 
this  he  said  he  did  in  imitation  of  Agamemnon,  who 
agreed  for  a  serviceable  mare  to  discharge  a  wealthy  cow¬ 
ard.  When  he  ordered  the  captives  to  be  sold  naked  and 
the  chapmen  came,  a  thousand  bid  ijioney  for  the  clothes, 
but  all  derided  the  bodies  of  the  men,  which  were  tender 
and  white  by  reason  of  their  delicate  breeding,  as  useless 
and  worth  nothing.  He  said  to  his  soldiers.  Look,  those 
are  the  things  for  which  ye  fight,  and  these  are  the  things 
with  whom  ye  fight.  Ilaving  beaten  Tissaphernes  in  Lydia 
and  killed  many  of  his  men,  he  wasted  the  territories  of 
the  king  ;  and  the  king  sending  money  and  desiring  a 
peace,  Agesilaus  replied :  To  grant  peace  is  in  the  power 
only  of  the  commonwealth.  I  delight  to  enrich  my  soldiers 
rather  than  myself,  and  think  it  agreeable  to  the  honor  of 
the  Greeks  not  to  receive  gifts  from  their  enemies  but  to 
take  spoils. 

Megabates  the  son  of  Spithridates,  a  very  pretty  boy, 
who  tliought  himself  very  well  beloved,  coming  to  him  to 
offer, a  kiss  and  an  embrace,  he  turned  aAvay  his  head.  But 
when  the  boy  had  not  appeared  a  long  time,  Agesilaus  en- 
([uired  after  him ;  and  his  friends  replied,  that  it  was  his 
own  fault,  since  he  derided  the  kiss  of  the  pretty  boy,  and 
the  youth  was  afraid  to  come  again.  Agesilaus,  standing 
silent  and  musing  a  pretty  while,  said  :  Well,  I  will  use  no 


LACONIC  apophthegms:  !  ^431 

persuasions,  for  methinks  I  had  rather  conquer  such  desires 
than  take  the  most  popular  city  of  my  enemies  ;  for  it  is 
better  to  preserve  our  own  than  rob  others  of  their  liberty. 
In  all  things  else  he  was  very  exact,  and  a  strict  observer 
of  the  law  ;  but  in  his  friends’  concerns  he  thought  that  to 
be  too  scrupulous  was  a  bare  pretence  to  cloak  unwilling¬ 
ness  to  use  his  interest.  And  agreeable  to  this,  there  is 
extant  a  small  note  of  his,  interceding  for  a  friend  to  one 
Idrieus  a  Carian :  If  Nicias  is  not  guilty,  discharge  him ; 
if  he  is,  discharge  him  for  my  sake  ;  but  by  all  means  pray 
let  him  be  discharged.  This  was  his  usual  humor  in  his 
friends’  concerns,  yet  sometimes  profit  and  convenience  was 
preferred  ;  for  once  breaking  up  his  camp  in  disorder,  and 
leaving  one  that  he  loved  behind  him  sick,  when  he  begged 
and  beseeched  him  with  tears  to  have  compassion,  he  turned 
and  said.  How  hard  it  is  to  be  pitiful  and  wise  at  once  !  His 
diet  was  the  same  with  that  of  his  attendants ;  he  never 
fed  to  satisfy,  nor  drank  himself  drunk ;  he  used  sleep  not 
as  a  master,  but  as  a  servant  to  his  atfairs  ;  and  was  so  fitted 
to  endure  heat  or  cold,  that  he  alone  was  undisturbed  at  the 
change  of  seasons.  He  lodged  amongst  his  soldiers,  and 
his  bed  was  as  mean  as  any ;  and  this  he  had  always  in  his 
mouth  :  It  befits  a  governor  to  excel  private  men  not  in 
delicacy  and  softness,  but  in  bravery  and  courage.  And 
therefore  when  one  asked  him  what  good  Lycurgiis’s  laws 
had  brought  to  Sparta,  he  replied,  Contempt  of  pleasure. 
And  to  one  that  wondered  at  his  and  the  other  Lacedae¬ 
monians’  mean  fare  and  poor  attire,  he  said.  From  this 
course  of  life,  sir,  we  reap  liberty.  And  to  one  advising 
him  to  indulge  more,  saying.  Chance  is  uncertain,  and  yon 
may  never  have  the  opportunity  again,  he  replied,  I  accus¬ 
tom  myself  so  that,  let  whatever  change  happen,  I  shall 
need  no  change.  When  he  was  grown  old,  he  continued 
the  same  course  ;  and  to  one  asking  him  why  at  his  age  in 
very  cold  weather  he  would  not  wear  a  coat,  he  replied,  that 


432 


LACONIC  APOPHTHEGMS. 


ik 

the  youth  may  imitate,  having  the  old  men  and  governors 
for  example. 

The  Thasians,  when  he  marched  through  their  country, 
presented  him  with  corn,  geese,  sweetmeats,  honey-cakes, 
and  all  sorts  of  delicacies,  both  of  meat  and  drink ;  he  ac¬ 
cepted  the  corn,  but  commanded  them  to  carry  back  the 
rest,  as  useless  and  unprofitable  to  him.  But  they  impor¬ 
tunately  pressing  him  to  take  all,  he  ordered  them  to  be 
given  to  the  Helots  ;  and  when  some  asked  the  reason,  he 
replied.  They  that  profess  bravery  ought  not  to  meddle 
with  such  delicacies  ;  and  whatever  takes  with  slaves  can¬ 
not  be  agreeable  to  the  free.  Another  time  the  Thasians, 
after  considerable  benefits  received,  made  him  a  God  and 
dedicated  temples  to  his  honor,  and  sent  an  embassy  to 
compliment  him  on  that  occasion.  When  he  had  read 
over  the  honors  the  ambassadors  had  brought  him,  Well, 
said  he,  and  can  your  country  make  men  Gods'?  And  they 
affirming.  Go  to,  he  rejoined,  make  yourselves  all  Gods 
first ;  and  when  that  is  done.  I’ll  believe  you  can  make  me 
one.  The  Greeks  in  Asia  decreeing  him  statues,  he  wrote 
thus  to  them  :  Let  there  be  no  representation  of  me,  either 
painted,  founded,  or  engraved.  In  Asia,  seeing  a  house  roofed 
with  square  beams,  he  asked  the  master  whether  trees  in 
their  country  were  grown  square.  And  he  replying,  No, 
but  round  ;  What  then,  said  he,  if  they  grew  square,  would 
you  make  them  round'?  Being  asked  how  far  Sparta’s 
bounds  extended,  shaking  a  spear  he  replied,  As  far  as  this 
will  reach.  And  to  another  enquiring  why  Sparta  was 
without  walls,  he  showed  the  citizens  in  arms,  saying.  Look, 
these  are  the  walls  of  Sparta.  And  to  another  that  put 
the  same  question  he  replied.  Cities  should  be  walled  not 
with  stones  and  timber,  but  with  the  courage  of  the  inhab¬ 
itants  ;  and  his  friends  he  advised  to  strive  to  be  rich  not 
in  money,  but  in  bravery  and  virtue.  When  he  would  have 
his  soldiers  do  any  thing  quickly,  he  before  them  all  put  the 


LACONIC  APOPHTHEGMS. 


433 


first  hand  to  it ;  he  was  proud  that  he  wrought  as  much  as 
any,  and  valued  himself  more  upon  ruling  his  own  desires 
than  upon  being  king.  When  one  saw  a  lame  Spartan 
marching  to  the  war,  and  endeavored  to  procure  a  horse 
for  him.  How,  said  he,  don’t  you  know  that  war  needs  those 
that  will  stay,  not  those  that  will  fly?  Being  asked  how  he 
got  this  great  reputation,  he  replied,  By  contemning  death. 
And  another  time,  one  enquiring  why  the  Spartans  used 
pipes  and  music  when  they  fought,  he  said,  When  all  move 
in  measure,  it  may  be  known  who  is  brave  and  who  a  cow¬ 
ard.  When  he  heard  one  magnifying-  the  king  of  Persia’s 
happiness,  who  was  but  young.  Yes,  said  he,  Priam  himself 
was  not  unhappy  at  that  age. 

When  he  had  conquered  a  great  part  of  Asia,  he  de¬ 
signed  to  march  against  the  King  himself,  to  break  his 
quiet  and  hinder  him  from  corrupting  the  popular  men 
amongst  the  Greeks  ;  but  being  recalled  by  the  Ephors  to 
oppose  the  designs  which  the  other  Greek  states,  bought 
with  the  King’s  gold,  were  forming  against  Sparta,  he  said, 
A  good  ruler  should  be  governed  by  the  laws,  —  and  sailed 
away  from  Asia,  leaving  the  Greeks  there  extremely  sorry 
at  his  departure.  And  because  the  stamp  of  the  Persian 
money  was  an  archer,  he  said,  when  he  broke  up  his  camp, 
that  he  was  driven  out  of  Asia  by  thirty  thousand  of  the 
King’s  archers.  For  so  many  pieces  of  gold  being  carried 
to  Thebes  and  Athens  by  Timocrates,  and  distributed 
amongst  the  popular  men,  the  people  were  excited  to 
war  upon  the  Spartans.  And  this  epistle  he  sent  to  the 
Ephors  :  — 


Agesilaus  to  the  Ephors,  Greeting, 

We  have  subdued  a  great  part  of  Asia,  driven  out  the 
barbarians,  and  furnished  Ionia  with  arms.  But  since 
you  command  me  back,  I  follow,  nay  almost  come  before 
this  epistle ;  for  I  am  not  governor  for  myself,  but  for  the  - 


434 


LACONIC  APOPHTIIIJGMS. 


commonwealth.  And  then  a  king  truly  rules  according  to 
justice,  when  he  is  governed  by  the  laws,  the  Ephors,  or 
others  that  are  in  authority  in  the  commonwealth. 

Passing  the  Hellespont,  he  marched  through  Thrace,  but 
made  no  applications  to  any  of  the  barbarians,  only  send¬ 
ing  to  know  whether  he  marched  through  the  country  of 
an  enemy  or  a  friend.  All  the  others  received  him  as 
friends  and  guided  him  in  his  march ;  only  the  Troadians 
(of  whom,  as  story  says,  even  Xerxes  bought  his  passage) 
demanded  of  Agesilaus  a  hundred  talents  of  silver  and  as 
many  women.  But  he  scoffingly  replied.  Why  then  do  not 
you  come  presently  to  receive  what  you  demand]  And 
leading  on  his  army,  he  fought  them  ;  and  having  destroyed 
a  considerable  number,  he  marched  through.  To  the  king 
of  Macedon  he  sent  the  same  question  ;  and  he  replying 
that  he  would  consider  of  it.  Let  him  consider,  saith  he, 
and  we  will  be  marching  on.  Upon  which  the  king,  sur¬ 
prised  at  liis  daring  temper  and  afraid  of  his  force,  ad¬ 
mitted  him  as  a  friend.  The  Thessalians  having  assisted 
his  enemies,  he  wasted  their  country,  and  sent  Xenocles 
and  Scythes  to  Larissa  in  order  to  make  a  treaty.  These 
being  seized  and  detained,  all  others  stomached  it  extreme¬ 
ly,  and  were  of  opinion  that  Agesilaus  should  besiege  and 
storm  Larissa.  But  he  replying  that  he  would  not  give 
either  of  their  lives  for  all  Thessaly,  he  had  them  deliv¬ 
ered  upon  articles.  Hearing  of  a  battle  fought  near  Cor¬ 
inth,  in  which  very  few  of  the  Spartans,  but  many  of  the 
Corinthians,  Athenians,  and  their  allies  were  slain,  he  did 
not  appear  joyful,  or  puffed  up  with  his  victory,  but  fetch¬ 
ing  a  deep  sigh  cried  out.  Unhappy  Greece,  that  hath  de¬ 
stroyed  herself  men  enough  to  have  conquered  all  the 
barbarians  !  The  Pharsalians  pressing  upon  him  and  dis¬ 
tressing  his  forces  with  five  hundred  horse,  he  charged 
them,  and  after  the  rout  raised  a  tj’ophy  at  the  foot  of 


LifcONIC  APOPHTHEGMS. 


435 


Narthacium.  And  this  victory  pleased  him  more  than  all 
the  others  he  had  won,  because  with  his  single  cavalry  he 
had  beaten  those  that  vaunted  themselves  as  the  best 
horsemen  in  the  world.  Diphridas  bringing  him  com¬ 
mands  immediately  upon  his  march  to  make  an  inroad  into 
Boeotia,  —  though  he  designed  the  same  thing  in  a  short 
time,  when  he  should  be  better  prepared,  —  he  obeyed, 
and  sending  for  twenty  thousand  men  from  the  camp  at 
Corinth,  marched  into  Boeotia  ;  and  at  Coronea  joining 
battle  with  the  Thebans,  Athenians,  Argives,  Corinthians, 
and  Locrians  altogether,  he  won,  though  desperately 
wounded  himself,  the  greatest  battle  (as  Xenophon  af¬ 
firms)  that  was  fought  in  his  age.  And  yet  when  he 
returned,  after  so  much  glory  and  so  many  victories,  he 
made  no  alteration  in  his  course  of  life. 

When  he  saw  some  of  the  citizens  think  themselves 
brave  fellows  for  breeding  horses  for  the  race,  he  per¬ 
suaded  his  sister  Cunisca  to  get  into  a  chariot  and  put  in 
for  the  prize  at  the  Olympian  games,  intending  by  that  way 
to  convince  the  Greeks  that  it  was  no  argument  of  bravery, 
but  of  wealth  and  profuse  expense.  Having  Xenophon 
the  philosopher  at  his  house,  and  treating  him  with  great 
consideration,  he  urged  him  to  send  for  his  children  and 
have  them  brought  up  in  Sparta,  where  they  might  learn 
the  most  excellent  of  arts,  how  to  govern  and  how  to  be 
governed.  And  at  another  time  being  asked  by  what 
means  the  Lacedaemonians  flourished  above  others.  Be¬ 
cause,  says  he,  they  are  more  studious  than  others  how 
to  rule  and  how  to  obey.  When  Lysander  was  dead, 
he  found  a  strong  faction,  which  Lysander  upon  his  re¬ 
turn  from  Asia  had  associated  against  him,  and  was  very 
eager  to  show  the  people  what  manner  of  citizen  Lysan¬ 
der  was  whilst  he  lived.  And  finding  among  Lysander  s 
.  papers  an  oration  composed  by  Cleon  of  Halicarnassus, 
about  new  designs  and  changing  the  government,  which 


436 


LACONIC  ArOPHTIIEGMS. 


Lysander  was  to  speak  to  the  people,  he  resolved  to  publish 
it.  But  when  an  old  politician,  perusing  the  discourse  and 
fearing  its  effect  upon  the  people,  advised  him  not  to  dig 
up  Lysander  but  rather  bury  the  speech  with  him,  he 
followed  the  advice,  and  made  no  more  of  it.  Those  of 
the  contrary  hiction  he  did  not  openly  molest,  but  by  cun¬ 
ning  contrivance  he  got  some  of  th(?m  into  office,  and  then 
showed  them  to  be  rascals  when  in  power.  And  then 
defending  them  or  getting  their  pardon  when  accused,  he 
brought  them  over  to  his  own  side,  so  that  he  had  no  enemy 
at  last.  To  one  desiring  him  to  write  to  his  acquaintance  in 
Asia,  that  he  might  have  justice  done  him,  he  replied.  My 
acquaintance  will  do  thee  justice,  though  I  do  not  write. 
One  showed  him  the  wall  of  a  city  strongly  built  and  well 
fortified,  and  asked  him  whether  he  did  not  think  it  a  fine 
thing.  Yes,  by  heaven,  he  replied,  for  women,  but  not  for 
men  to  live  in.  To  a  Megarian  talking  great  things  of  his 
city  he  said.  Youth,  thy  words  want  an  army. 

What  he  saw  others  admire  he  seemed  not  so  much  as 
to  know ;  and  when  Callipides,  a  man  famous  among  the 
Greeks  for  acting  tragedies  and  caressed  by  all,  met  him 
and  saluted  him,  and  then  impudently  intruding  amongst 
his  companions  showed  himself,  supposing  that  Agesilaus 
would  take  notice  of  him  and  begin  some  familiar  dis¬ 
course,  and  at  last  asked,  Doth  not  your  majesty  know  me  ? 
Have  not  you  heard  who  I  am? — he  looked  upon  him  and 
said.  Art  not  thou  Callipides,  the  Merry  Andrew?*  (For 
that  is  the  name  the  Lacedaemonians  give  an  actor.)  Be¬ 
ing  once  desired  to  hear  a  man  imitate  a  nightingale,  he 
refused,  saying,  I  have  often  heard  the  bird  itself.  Mene- 
crates  the  physician,  for  his  good  success  in  some  desperate 
diseases,  was  called  Jupiter ;  and  priding  himself  in  the 
name,  he  presumed  to  write  to  Agesilaus  thus  :  Menecrates 
Jupiter  to  King  Agesilaus  wisheth  good  health.  Beading 


*  the  Spartan  word  for  the  more  common  vnoKpLTrjg,  (G.) 


LACONIC  APOPHTHEGMS. 


437 


no  more,  lie  presently  wrote  back:  King  Agesilaus  to 
Menecrates  wislieth  a  sound  mind. 

When  Conon  and  Pharnabazus  with  the  king’s  navy 
were  masters  of  the  sea  and  wasted  the  coasts  of  Laconia, 
and  Athens  —  Pharnabazus  defraying  the  charges  —  was 
surrounded  with  a  wall,  the  Lacedaemonians  made  a  peace 
with  the  Persian  ;  and  sending  Antalcidas,  one  of  their  citi¬ 
zens,  to  Tiribazus,  they  agreed  to  deliver  into  the  King’s 
hands  all  the  Asiatic  Greeks,  for  whose  freedom  iigesilaus 
fought.  Upon  which  account  Agesilaus  was  not  at  all 
blemished  by  this  dishonorable  treaty ;  for  Antalcidas  was 
his  enemy,  and  clapped  up  a  peace  on  purpose  because  the 
war  raised  Agesilaus  and  got  him  glory.  When  one  said, 
The  Lacedaemonians  are  becoming  medized,  he  replied, 
llather  the  Medes  are  becoming  laconized.  And  being 
asked  which  was  the  better  virtue,  courage  or  justice,  he 
said :  Courage  would  be  good  for  nothing,  if  there  were  no 
justice ;  and  if  all  men  were  just,  there  would  be  no  need 
of  courage.  ^  The  Asians  being  wont  to  style  the  king  of 
Persia  The  Great ;  How,  said  he,  is  he  greater  than  I  am, 
if  he  is  not  more  just  or  temperate  ?  And  he  used  to  say, 
The  Greeks  in  Asia  are  mean-spirited  freemen,  but  stout 
slaves.  And  being  asked  how  one  might  get  the  greatest 
reputation  amongst  men,  he  replied.  By  speaking  the  best 
and  doing  the  bravest  things.  And  he  had  this  saying  com¬ 
monly  in  his  mouth,  A  commander  should  be  daring  against 
his  enemy,  and  kind  and  good-natured  to  his  own  soldiers. 
When  one  asked  him  what  boys  should  learn ;  That,  said 
he,  which  they  shall  use  when  men.  When  he  sat  judge 
upon  a  cause,  the  accuser  spake  floridly  and  well ;  but  the 
defendant  meanly  and  ever  now  and  then  repeated  these 
words,  Agesilaus,  a  king  should  assist  the  laws.  What,  said 
he,  dost  thou  think,  if  any  one  dug  down  thy  house  or  took 
away  thy  coat,  a  mason  or  a  weaver  would  assist  thee  ? 

A  letter  being' brought  him  from  the  king  of  Persia  by 


438 


LACONIC  APOPHTHEGMS. 


4 


a  Persian  that  came'  with  Callias  the  Spartan,  after  the 
peace  was  concluded,  offering  him  friendship  and  kind  en¬ 
tertainment,  he  would  not  receive  it,  bidding  the  messenger 
tell  the  king  that  there  was  no  need  to  send  private  letters 
to  him ;  for  if  he  was  a  friend  to  Sparta  and  meant  well  to 
Greece,  he  would  do  his  best  to  be  his  friend ;  but  if  he 
designed  upon  their  liberty,  he  might  know  that,  though 
he  received  a  thousand  letters  from  him,  he  would  be  his 
enemy.  He  was  very  fond  of  his  children ;  and  it  is  re¬ 
ported  that  once  toying  with  them  he  got  astride  upon  a 
reed  as  upon  a  horse,  and  rode  about  the  room ;  and  being 
seen  by  one  of  his  friends,  he  desired  him  not  to  speak  of 
it  till  he  had  children  of  his  own.  When  he  had  fought 
often  with  the  Thebans  and  was  wounded  in  the  battle, 
Antalcidas,  as  it  is  reported,  said  to  him  :  Indeed,  sir,  you 
have  received  a  very  fair  reward  for  instructing  the  The¬ 
bans,  whom,  when  ignorant  and  unwilling,  you  have  forced 
to  learn  the  art  of  war.  For  story  tells  us,  the  Lacedae¬ 
monians  at  that  time  by  frequent  skirmishes  had  made  the 
Thebans  better  soldiers  than  themselves.  And  therefore 
Lycurgus,  the  old  lawgiver,  forbade  them  to  fight  often 
with  the  same  nation,  lest  the  enemy  should  learn  their 
discipline.  *When  he  understood  that  the  allies  took  it 
very  ill,  that  in  their  frequent  expeditions  they,  being  great 
in  •  number,  followed  the  Spartans  that  were  but  few  ;  de¬ 
signing  to  show  their  mistake  about  the  number,  he  ordered 
all  the  allies  to  sit  down  in  one  body  and  the  Lacedaemo¬ 
nians  in  another  by  themselves.  Then  he  made  proclama- 
ti6n  that  all  the  potters  should  rise  first ;  and  when  they 
stood  up,  the  braziers  next;  then  the  carpenters,  next  the 
'masons,  and  so  all  other  traders  in  order.  Now  almost  all 
the  allies  stood  up  and  not  one  of  the  Spartans,  for  their 

law  forbids  them  all  mechanical  employments.  Then  said 

\ 

Agesilaus,  with  a  smile.  See  now  how  many  soldiers  we  pro¬ 
vide  more  than  you.  When  at  the  battle  erf  Leuctra  many 


LACONIC  APOPHTHEGMS. 


439 


of  the  Spartans  fled  and  upon  that  account  were  obnoxious 
to  the  laws,  the  Ephors,  seeing  the  city  had  but  few  men 
and  stood  in  great  need  of  soldiers  at  that  time,  would  free 
them  from  the  infamy  and  yet  still  keep  the  laws  in  force. 
Upon  that  account  they  put  the  power  of  making  laws  into 
the  hands  of  Agesilaus ;  and  he  coming  into  the  assembly 
said,  I  will  make  no  new  laws,  nor  will  I  add  any  thing  to 
those  you  already  have,  nor  take  therefrom,  nor  change 
them  in  any  wise ;  but  I  will  order  that  the  laws  you 
already  have  be  in  force  from  to-morrow. 

Epaminondas  rushing  on  with  a  torrent  and  tide  of  force, 
and  the  Thebans  and  their  allies  being  puffed  up  with  this 
victory,  though  he  had  but  an  inconsiderable  nuniber,  Ages¬ 
ilaus  repulsed  them  from  the  city  and  forced  them  to 
retreat.  In  the  battle  at  Mantinea,  he  advised  the  Spartans 
to  neglect  the  others  and  fight  Epaminondas  only,  saying  : 
The  wise  alone  is  the  stout  man,  and  the  cause  of  victory ; 
and  therefore  if  we  take  him  ofl‘,  we  shall  quickly  have 
the  rest ;  for  they  are  fools  and  worth  nothing.  And  it 
happened  accordingly ;  for  Epaminondas  having  the  better 
of  the  day  and  the  Spartans  being  routed,  as  he  turned 
about  and  encouraged  his  soldiers  to  pursue,  a  Lacedae¬ 
monian  gave  him  his  death -wound.  He  falling,  the  Spar¬ 
tans  that  fled  with  Agesilaus  rallied  and  turned  the  victory  ; 
the  Thebans  appearing  to  have  much  the  worse,  and  the, 
Spartans  the  better  of  the  day.  When  Sparta  had  a  great 
many  hired  soldiers  in  pay,  and  wanted  money  to  carry  on 
the  war,  Agesilaus,  upon  the  king  of  Egypt’s  desire,  went 
to  serve  him  for  money.  But  the  meanness  of  his  habit 
brought  him  into  contempt  with  the  people  of  that  coun¬ 
try  ;  for  they,  according  to  their  bad  notions  of  princes,  ex¬ 
pected  that  the  king  of  Sparta  should  appear  like  the 

Persian,  gaudily  attired.  But  in  a  little  time  he  sufficiently 
1 

convinced  them  that  majesty  and  glory  were  to  be  gotten 
by  prudence  and  courage.  When  he  found  his  men  dis- 


440 


LACONIC  APOPHTHEGMS. 


couraged  at  the  number  of  the  enemy  (for  they  were 
^  200,000)  and  their  own  fewness,  just  before  the  engage¬ 
ment,  without  any  man’s  privity,  he  contrived  how  to  en¬ 
courage  them :  in  the  hollow  of  his  left  hand  he  wrote 
VICTORY,  and  taking  the  liver  from  the  priest,  he  put  it  into 
that  hand,  and  held  it  a  pretty  while,  pretending  he  was  in 
doubt  and  perplexity  at  some  appearance,  till  the  charac¬ 
ters  were  imprinted  on  the  flesh ;  and  then  he  showed  it  to 
the  soldiers,  telling  them  the  Gods  gave  certain  signs  of 
victory  by  these  characters.  Upon  which,  thinking  they 
had  sure  evidence  of  good  success,  they  marched  reso¬ 
lutely  to  the  battle.  When  the  enemy  much  exceeded 
them  in  number  and  were  making  an  entrenchment  round 
his  camp,  and  ^ectabius,  whom  then  he  assisted,  urged 
him  to  fight ;  I  would  not,  said  he,  hinder  our  enemies 
from  making  their  number  as  small  as  ours.  And  when 
the  trench  was  almost  drawn  round,  ordering  his  army 
to  the  space  between,  and  so  fighting  upon  equal  terms, 
with  those  few  soldiers  he  had  he  routed  and  killed  abun¬ 
dance  of  the  enemy,  and  sent  home  a  great  treasure.  Dying 
on  his  voyage  from  Egypt,  he  commanded  his  attendants 
not  to  make  any  figure  or  representation  of  his  body  ;  For, 
said  he,  if  I  have  done  any  brave  action,  that  will  preserve 
my  memory ;  if  not,  neither  will  a  thousand  statues,  the 
works  of  base  mechanics. 

Of  AgesipoUs  the  Son  of  Cleomhrotiis* 

Agesipolis  the  son  of  Cleombrotus,  when  one  told  him 
that  Philip  had  razed  Olynthus  in  a  few  days,  said.  Well, 
but  he  is  not  able  to  build  such  another  in  twice  that  time. 
To  one  saying  that  whilst  he  was  king  he  himself  was  an 
hostage  with  some  other  youths,  and  not  their  wives  or 
children,  he  replied.  Very  good,  for  it  is  fit  we  ourselves 
should  suffer  for  our  own  faults.  When  he  designed  to 
send  for  some  whelps  from  home,  and  one  said.  Sir,  none 


LACONIC  APOPHTHEGMS. 


441 


must  be  carried  out  of  the  country,  he  replied,  Nor  men 
heretofore,  but  now  they  may. 

Of  AgesipoUs  the  Son  of  Pausanias. 

i\gesipolis  the  son  of  Pausanias,  when  the  Athenians 
appealed  to  the  Megarians  as  arbitrators  of  the  differences 
between  them,  said,  It  is  a  shame,  Athenians,  that  those 
who  wore  once  the  lords  of  all  Greece  should  understand 
what  is  right  and  just  less  than  the  people  of  Megara. 

Of  Agis  the  Son  of  Archidamus. 

Agis  the  son  of  Archidamus,  when  the  Ephors  gave 
orders.  Go  take  the  youth,  and  follow  this  man  into  his 
own  country,  and  he  shall  guide  thee  to  the  very  citadel, 
said :  How  can  it  be  prudent  to  trust  so  many  youths  to  the 
fidelity  of  him  who  betrays  his  own  country?  Being  asked 
what  art  was  chiefly  learned  in  Sparta,  To  know,  he  re¬ 
plied,  how  to  govern  and  to  be  governed.  He  used  to  say, 
The  Spartans  do  not  enquire  how  many  the  enemy  are,  but 
where  they  are.  At  Mantinea,  being  advised  not  to. fight 
the  enemy,  who  exceeded  him  in  number,  he  said.  It  is 
necessary  for  him  to  fight  a  great  many  that  would  rule  a 
great  many.  To  one  enquiring  how  many  the  Spartans 
were.  Enough,  he  replied,  to  keep  rascals  at  a  distance. 
Marching  by  the  walls  of  Corinth,  and  perceiving  them  to 
be  high  and  strong  and  stretching  out  to  a  great  length,  he 
said.  What  women  live  there?'  To  an  orator  that  said 
speech  was  the  best  thing,  he  rejoined,  You  then,  when 
you  are  silent,  are  worth  nothing.  When  the  Argives, 
after  they  had  been  once  beaten,  faced  him  more  boldly 
than  before  ;  on  seeing  many  of  the  allies  disheartened,  he  ^ 
said.  Courage,  sirs !  for  when  we  conquerors  shake,  what 
do  you  think  is  the  condition  of  the  conquered?  To  an 
ambassador  from  the  Abderites,  after  he  had  ended  his 
long  speech,  enquiring  what  answer  he  should  carry  to  his 


442 


LACONIC  APOPHTHEGMS. 


city,  lie  replied,  This  :  As  long  as  you  talked,  so  long  I  qui¬ 
etly  heard.  Some  commending  the  Eleans  for  exact  justice 
in  determining  the  prizes  at  the  Olympian  games,  he  said. 
What  great  wonder  is  it,  that  in  four  years  they  can  be  just- 
one  day  ?  To  some  that  told  him  he  was  envied  by  the 
heirs  of  the  other  royal  family,  Well,  said  he,  their  own 
misfortunes  will  torment  them,  and  my  own  and  my  friends’ 
success  besides.  When  one  advised  him  to  give  the  flying 
enemy  room  to  run,  he  said,  How  shall  we  flght  those  that 
stand  to  it  and  resist,  if  we  dare  not  engage  those  whom 
their  cowardice  makes  fly  ?  When  one  proposed  a  way  to 
free  Greece,  well  contrived  indeed  but  hard  to  be  brought 
about,  he  said.  Friend,  thy  words  want  an  army  and  a  treas¬ 
ure.  To  one  saying,  Philip  won’t  let  you  set  foot  upon  any 
other  part  of  Greece,  he  returned.  Sir,  we  have  room 
enough  in  our  own  country.  An  ambassador  from  Perin- 
thus  to  Lacedaemon,  after  a  long  tedious  speech,  asking 
what  answer  he  should  carry  back  to  the  Perinthians,  he 
said,  What  but  this  1  —  that  thou  couldst  hardly  And  an  end 
to  thy  talk,  and  I  kept  silent.  He  went  by  himself  ambas¬ 
sador  to  Philip ;  and  Philip  saying.  What !  but  one  ]  he 
replied,  I  am  an  ambassador  but  to  one.  An  old  man,  ob¬ 
serving  that  the  ancient  laws  were  neglected  and  that  new 
evil  customs  crept  in,  said  to  him,  when  he  was  now  grown 
old  himself.  All  things  here  at  Sparta  are  turned  topsy¬ 
turvy.  He  replied  with  a  joke :  If  it  is  so,  it  is  agreeable 
to  reason ;  for  when  I  was  a  boy,  I  heard  my  father  say 
that  all  things  were  then  topsy-turvy ;  and  he  heard  his 
father  say  the  same ;  and  it  is  no  wonder  if  succeeding 
times  are  worse  than  the  preceding ;  but  it  is  a  wonder  if 
they  happen  to  be  better,  or  but  just  as  good.  Being 
asked  how  a  man  could  be  always  free,  he  replied.  If  he 
contemns  death. 


LACONIC  APOPIITHEGMS. 


443 


Of  Agis  the  Younger, 

Agis  the  Younger,  when  Demades  said,  The  Spartans’ 
swords  are  so  short  that  our  jugglers  can  easily  swallow 
them,  replied.  Yet  the  Spartans  can  reach  their  enemies 
with  these  swords.  A  base  fellow  often  asking  who  was 
the  bravest  of  the  Spartans,  he  said,  He  that  is  most  un¬ 
like  thee. 

0 

Of  Agis  the  Last. 

Agis,  the  last  king  of  Lacedaemon,  being  taken  and 
condemned  by  the  Ephors  without  hearing,  as  he  was  led 
to  the  gallows,  saw  one  of  the  officers  weeping.  Do  not 
weep  for  me,  he  said,  who,  being  so  unjustly,  so  barbarously 
condemned,  am  in  a  better  condition  than  my  murderers. 
And  having  spoken  thus,  he  quietly  submitted  himself  to 
the  halter. 

Of  Acrotatus. 

Acrotatus,  wffien  his  parents  commanded  him  to  join  in 
some  unjust  action,  refused  for  some  time ;  but  when  they 
grew  importunate,  he  said  :  When  I  was  under  your  power 
I  had  no  notion  of  justice,  but  now  you  have  delivered  me 
to  my  country  and  her  laws,  and  to  the  best  of  your  power 
have  taught  me  loyalty  and  justice,  I  shall  endeavor  to  fol¬ 
low  these  rather  than  you.  And  since  you  would  have  me 
to  do  that  which  is  best,  and  since  just  actions  are  best  for 
a  private  man  and  much  more  for  a  governor,  I  shall  do 
■what  you  would  have  me,  and  refuse  what  you  command. 

Of  Alcamenes  the  Son  of  Telecliis. 

Alcamenes  the  son  of  Teleclus,  being  asked  how  a  ruler 
might  best  secure  his  government,  replied.  By  slighting 
gain.  And  to  another  enquiring  why  he  refused  the  pres¬ 
ents  the  Messenians  made  him  he  said.  Because,  if  I  had 
taken  them,  I  and  the  laws  could  never  have  agreed. 


444 


LACONIC  APOPHTHEGMS. 


When  one  said  that  though  he  had  wealth  enough  he  lived 
hut  meanly,  he  replied,  Well,  it  is  a  glory  for  one  that  hath 
abundance  to  live  as  reason  not  as  appetite  directs. 

Of  Alexandridas. 

Alexandridas,,the  son  of  Leo,  said  to  one  that  was  much 
concerned  at  his  banishment  from  the  city,  Good  sir,  be 
not  concerned  that  you  must  leave  the  city,  but  that  you 
have  left  justice.  To  one  that  talked  to  the  Ephors  very 
pertinently  but  a  great  deal  too  much  he  said,  Sir,  your 
discourse  is  very  good,  but  ill-timed.  And  when  one  asked 
him  why  they  let  their  Helot  slaves  cultivate  the  fields,  and 
did  not  take  care  of  them  themselves,  he  replied,  Because 
we  acquired  our  land  not  caring  for  it  but  for  ourselves. 
Another  saying.  Desire  of  reputation  causes  abundance  of 
mischief,  and  those  are  happy  that  are  free  from  it ;  Then, 
he  subjoined,  it  follows  that  villains  are  happy ;  for  do  you 
think  that  he  that  commits  sacrilege  or  doth  an  injury  takes 
any  care  for  credit  and  reputation?  Another  asking  why 
in  a  battle  the  Spartans  venture  so  boldly  into  danger.  Be¬ 
cause,  said  he,  we  train  ourselves  to  have  a  reverential 
regard  for  our  lives,  not,  as  others  do,  to  tremble  for  them. 
Another  demanding  why  the  judges  took  so  many  days  to 
pass  sentence  in  a  capital  cause,  and  why  he  that  was 
acquitted  still  remained  liable  to  be  brought  to  trial,  he 
replied :  They  consult  so  long,  because  if  they  make  a  mis¬ 
take  in  judgment  and  condemn  a  man  to  death,  they  cannot 
correct  their  judgment ;  and  the  accused  still  remains  liable, 
because  this  provision  might  enable  them  to  give  even  a 
better  judgment  than  before. 

•  ^ 

Of  Anaxander  the  Son  of  Eurycrates. 

Anaxander,  the  son  of  Eurycrates,  to  one  asking  him 
why  the  Spartans  laid  up  no  money  in  the  exchequer,  re¬ 
plied,  that  the  keepers  of  it  might  not  be  tempted  to  be 
knaves. 


LACONIC  APOPHTHEGMS. 


445 


Of  Anaxilas. 

Anaxilas,  when  one  wondered  for  what  reason  the  Ephors 
did  not  rise  up  lo  the  king,  since  the  kings  made  them, 
said.  It  is  for  the  same  reason  for  which  they  are  appointed 
Ephors  (or  overseers). 


Of  Androdidas* 

Androclidas  a  Spartan,  being  maimed  in  his  leg,  enlisted 
in  the  army ;  and  when  some  refused  him  because  he  was 
maimed,  he  said.  It  must  not  be  those  that  can  run  away, 
but  those  that  can  stand  to  it,  that  must  fight  the  enemy. 

Of  Antalcidas. 

Antal cidas,  when  he  was  to  be  initiated  in  the  Samothra- 
cian  mysteries,  and  was  asked  by  the  priest  what  great  sin 
he  had  committed  in  all  his  life,  replied.  If  I  have  committed 
any,  the  Gods  know  it  already.  To  an  Athenian  that  called 
the  Lacedaemonians  illiterate  he  said,  True ;  for  we  alone 
have  learned  no  ill  from  you.  Another  Athenian  saying, 
We  have  often  beat  you  back  from  the  Cephissus,  he  sub¬ 
joined,  But  we  never  repulsed  you  from  the  Eurotas.  To 
another  demanding  how  one  might  please  most  men,  he 
replied.  By  speaking  what  delights,  and  doing  what  profits 
them.  A  Sophist  being  about  to  read  him  an  encomium 
of  Hercules,  he  said,  Why,  who  has  blamed  him'?  To 
Agesilaus,  when  he  was  wounded  in  a  battle  by  the  The¬ 
bans,  he  said.  Sir,  you  have  a  fine  reward  for  forcing  them 
to  learn  the  art  of  war ;  for,  by  the  many  skirmishes  x4ges- 
ilaus  had  with  them,  they  learned  discipline  and  became 
good  soldiers.  He  said.  The  youth  are  the  walls  of  Sparta, 
and  the  points  of  their  spears  its  bounds.  To  one  enquir¬ 
ing  why  the  Lacedaemonians  fought  with  such  short  swords 
he  replied,  We  come  up  close  to  our  enemies. 


446 


LACONIC  APOPHTHEGMS. 


Of  Antioclius. 

Antioclms,  one  of  the  Ephors,  when  he  heard  Philip  had 
bestowed  some  lands  on  the  Messenians,  said,  Well,  but 
hath  Philip  also  given  them  forces,  that  they  may  be  able 
to  (Jofend  his  gift? 

Of  Aregeus. 

Aregeus,  when  some  praised  not  their  own  but  other 
men’s  wives,  said :  Faith,  about  virtuous  women  there 
should  be  no  common  talk  ;  and  what  beauty  they  have 
none  but  their  own  husbands  should  understand.  As  he 

t 

was  walking  through  Selinus,  a  city  of  Sicily,  he  saw  this 
epitaph  upon  a  tomb,  — 

Those  that  extinguished  the  tyrannic  flame, 

Surprised  by  war  and  hasty  fate,  . 

Though  tliey  are  still  alive  in  lasting  fame. 

Lie  buried  near  Selinus’  gate ;  — 

and  said:  You  died  deservedly  for  quenching  it  when 
already  in  a  flame  ;  for  you  should  have  hindered  it  from 
coming  to  a  blaze. 

Of  Ariston. 

Ariston,  when  one  commended  the  saying  of  Cleomenes, 
—  who,  being  asked  what  a  good  king  should  do,  replied, 
Good  turns  to  his  friends,  and  evil  to  his  enemies,  —  said: 
How  much  better  is  it,  sir,  to  do  good  to  our  friends,  and 
make  our  enemies  our  friends !  Though  upon  all  hands  it 
is  agreed  Socrates  spoke  this  first,  yet  he  hath  the  credit  of 
it  too.  To  one  asking  how  many  the  Spartans  were  in 
number  he  replied.  Enough  to  chase  our  enemies.  An 
Athenian  making  a  funeral  oration  in  praise  of  those  that’ 
fell  by  the  hand  of  the  Lacedaemonians,  he  said.  What 
brave  fellows  then  were  ours,  that  conquered  these ! 

Of  Archidamidas. 

Archidamidas  said  to  one  commending  Charilas  for 
being  kind  to  all  alike.  How  can  he  deserve  commenda- 


LACONIC  APOPHTHEGMS 


447 


tion,  that  is  gentle  to  the  wicked  and  unjust'?  When  one 
was  angry  with  Ilecataeus  the  Sophist  because  when  ad 
mitted  to  the  public  entertainment  he  said  nothing,  he  said, 
Sir,  you  seem  not  to  understand  that  he  that  knows  how  to 
speak  knows  also  when  to  speak. 

Of  Archidamus  the  Son  of  Zeuxidamus. 

Archidamus  the  son  of  Zeuxidamus,  when  one  asked 
him  who  were  governors  at  Sparta,  replied.  The  laws,  and 
the  magistrates  according  to  those  laws.  To  one  that 
praised  a  tiddler  and  admired  his  skill  he  said,  How  must 
you  prize  brave  men,  when  you  can  give  a  tiddler  such  a 
commendation !  When  one  recommending  a  musician  to 
him  said.  This  man  plays  well  upon  the  harp,  he  returned, 
And  we  have  this  man  who  makes  broth  well ;  —  as  if  it 
were  no  more  to  raise  pleasure  and  tickle  with  a  sound 
than  with  meats  and  broths.  To  one  that  promised  to  make 
his  wine  sweet  he  said.  To  what  purpose'?  for  we  shall 
spend  the  more,  and  ruin  our  public  mess.  When  he 
besieged  Corinth,  seeing  some  hares  started  under  the 
very  walls,  he  said  to  his  soldiers.  Our  enemies  may  be 
easily  surprised.  ^Two  choosing  him  arbitrator,  he  brought 
them  both  into  the  temple  of  Minerva  of  the  Brazen  House, 
and  made  them  swear  to  stand  to  his  determination ;  and 
when  they  had  both  sworn,  he  said,  I  determine  that  you 
shall  not  go  out  of  this  temple,  till  you  have  ended  all  the 
differences  between  you.  Dionysius  the  Sicilian'  tyrant 
sending  his  daughters  some  very  rich  apparel,  he  refused 
it,  saying,  When  this  is  on,  I  am  afraid  they  will  look  ugly 
and  deformed.  When  he  saw  his  son  rashly  engaging  the 
Athenians,  he  said.  Pray  get  more  strength  or  less  spirit. 

Of  Archidamus  the  Son  of  Agesilaus.  ' 

Archidamus  the  son  of  Agesilaus,  when  Philip  after  the 
battle  at  Chaeronea  sent  him  a  haughty  letter,  retuimed 


448 


LACONIC  APOPHTHEGMS. 


this  answer,  If  you  meas\ire  your  shadow,  you  will  find  it 
no  greater  than  before  the  victory.  And  being  asked  how 
much  land  the  Spartans  possessed,  he  said.  As  much  as 
their  spears  reach.  Periander,  a  physician,  being  well 
skilled  in  his  profession  and  of  good  credit,  but  writing 
very  bad  poems,  he  said  to  him,  Why,  Periander,  instead 
of  a  good  physician  are  you  eager  to  be  called  a  bad  poet  ? 
In  the  war  with  Philip,  wdien  spine  advised  him  to  fight  at 
some  disthnce  from  his  own  country,  he  replied,  Let  us  not 
mind  that,  but  whether  we  shall  fight  bravely  and  beat  our 
enemies.  To  some  who  commended  him  for  routing  the 
Arcadians  he  said,  It  had  been  better  if  we  had  been  too 
hard  for  them  in  policy  rather  than  in  strength.  When  he 
invaded  Arcadia,  understanding  that  the  Eleans  were  ready 
to  oppose  him,  he  wrote  thus  :  Archidamus  to  the  Eleans  ; 
It  is  good  to  be  quiet.  The  allies  in  the  Peloponnesian 
war  consulting  what  treasure  would  be  sufficient  to  carry 
on  the  war,  and  desiring  to  set  the  tax,  he  said.  War  cannot 
be  put  on  a  certain  allowance.  As  soon  as ‘ever  he  saw  a 
dart  shot  out  of  an  engine  brought  from  Sicily,  he  cried 
out.  Good  God!  true  valor  is  gone  for  ever.  When  the 
Greeks  refused  to  obey  him  or  to  stand  to  those  conditions 
which  he  had  made  with  Antigonus  and  Craterus  the 
Macedonians,  but  would  be  free,  alleging  that  the 
Spartans  would  prove  more  rigorous  lords  than  the  Ma¬ 
cedonians,  he  said  :  A  sheep  always  uses  the  same  voice, 
but  a  man  various  and  many,  till  he  hath  perfected  his 
designs. 

Of  Astycratidas, 

Astycratidas,  after  Agis  the  king  'was  beaten  by  Anti¬ 
gonus  at  Megalopolis,  was  asked.  What  will  you  Spartans 
do  ]  will  you  serve  the  Macedonians  1  He  replied,  Why 
so,  can  Antipater  hinder  us  from  dying  in  the  defence 
of  Sparta? 


LACONIC  APOPHTHEGMS. 


449 


Of  Bias. 

Bias  being  surprised  by  an  ambusb  that  Iphicrates  the 
Athenian  general  had  laid,  and -his  soldiers  demanding 
what  must  be  done,  he  replied.  You  must  provide  for  your 
own  safety,  and  I  must  tight  manfully  and  die. 

•  '  Of  Bras  Idas. 

Brasidas  catching  a  mouse  amongst  some  dry  tigs,  the 
mouse  bit  him ;  upon  which  he  let  her  go,  and  said  to  his 
companions.  There  is  nothing  so  little  but  it  may  preserve 
itself,  if  it  dares  resist  the  invaders.  In  a  battle,  being 
shot  through  the  shield  into  the  body,  he  drew  the  dart 
out  and  with  it  killed  the  enemy.  And  one  asking  how 
his  wound  came,  he  replied.  By  the  treachery  of  my  shield. 
As  he  was  leading  forth  his  army,  he  wrote  to  the  Ephors, 
I  will  accomplish  what  I  wish  in  this  war,  or  I  will  die  for 
it.  Being  killed  as  he  fought  to  free  the  Greeks  in  Thrace, 
the  ambassadors  that  were  sent  to  Sparta  to  condole  his 
loss  made  a  visit  to  his  mother  Argileonis.  And  the  first 
question  she  asked  was,  whether  Brasidas  died  bravely. 
And  the  Thracians  extolling  him  and  saying  there  was  no 
such  man  in  the  world  ;  You  mistake,  sir,  said  she,  it  is 
true,  Brasidas  was  a  good  man,  but  Sparta  can  show  many 
who  are  better. 

Of  Damonidas. 

Damonidas,  when  the  master  of  the  festival  set  him  in 
the  lowest  place  in  the  choral  dance,  said,  Well,  sir,  you 
have  found  a  way  to  make  this  place,  which  was  infamous 
before,  noble  and  honorable. 

Of  Damis. 

Damis  to  some  letters  that  were  sent  to  him  by  Alexan¬ 
der,  intimating  that  he  should  vote  Alexander  a  God, 


450 


LACONIC  ArOPHTIIEGMS. 


returned  this  answer  :  We  are  content  that  Alexander  (if 
he  will)  be  called  a  God. 

Of  Damindas. 

Damindas,  when  Philip  invaded  Peloponnesus,  and  one 
said  that  the  Spartans  would  suffer  great  mischiefs  unless 
they  accepted  his  proposals,  said.  Thou  woman-man,  what 
misery  can  we  suffer  that  despise  death? 

Of  DercylUdas. 

Dercyllidas,  being  sent  ambassador  to  Pyrrhus,  —  who 
was  then  with  his  army  on  the  borders  of  Sparta,  and  re¬ 
quired  them  either  to  receive  thejr  king  Cleonymus,  or 
he  would  make  them  know  they  were  no  better  than 
other  men,  —  replied.  If  he  is  a  God,  we  do  not  fear  him, 
for  we  have  committed  no  fault ;  if  a  man,  we  are  as  good 
as  he. 

Of  Demaratiis. 

Demaratus,  —  when  O.ontes  talked  very  roughly  to  him, 
and  one  said,  Demaratus,  Orontes  uses  you  very  roughly,  — 
replied,  I  have  no  reason  to  be  angry,  for  those  that  speak 
to  please  do  the  mischief,  not  those  that  talk  out  of  malice. 
To  one  enquiring  why  they  disgrace  those  that  lose  their 
shields  in  a  battle  and  not  those  that  lose  their  head-pieces 
or  breastplates,  he  answered.  Because  these  serve  for  their 
private  safety  only,  but  their  shield  for  the  common  de¬ 
fence  and  strength  of  the  whole  army.  Hearing  one  play 
upon  the  harp,  he  said.  The  man  seems  to  play  the  fool 
well.  In  a  certain  assembly,  when  he  was  asked  whether 
he  held  his  tongue  because  he  was  a  fool  or  for  want  of 
words,  he  replied,  A  fool  cannot  hold  his  tongue.  When 
one  asked  him  why  being  king  he  fled  Sparta,  he  answered, 
Because  the  laws  rule  there.  A  Persian  having  by  many 
presents  enticed  the  boy  that  he  loved  from  him,  and  say- 


LACONIC  APOPHTHEGMS. 


451 


ing,  Spartan,  I  have  caught  your  love ;  No,  faith,  he  an¬ 
swered,  but  you  have  bought  him.  One  having  revolted 
from  the  king  of  Persia,  and  by  Demaratus’s  persuasion 
returning  again  to  his  obedience,  and  the  king  design¬ 
ing  his  death,  Demaratus  said  :  It  is  dishonorable,  O  king, 
whilst  he  was  an  enemy  not  to  be  able  to  punish  him  for 
his  revolt,  and  to  kill  him  now  he  is  a  friend.  To  a  para¬ 
site  of  the  king  that  often  jeered  him  about  his  exile  he 
said :  Sir,  I  will  not  fight  you,  for  you  have  lost  your 
post  in  life."^ 

Of  Emprepes. 

Emprepes,  one  of  the  Ephors,  cut  out  two  of  the  nine 
strings  of  Phrynis  the  musician  s  harp  with  a  hatchet,  say¬ 
ing,  Do  not  abuse  music. 


Of  Epaenetus, 

Epaenetus  said  that  liars  were  the  cause  of  all  villanies 
and  injustice  in  the  world. 

Of  Euhoidas. 

Euboidas,  hearing  some  commend  another  man’s  wife, 
disliked  it  and  said.  Strangers  who  are  not  of  the  house 
should  never  speak  of  the  manner  of  any  woman. 

Of  Eudamidas  the  Son  of  Archidamus. 

Eudamidas,  the  son  of  Archidamus  and  brother  of  Agis, 
seeing  Xenocrates,  now  grown  old,  philosophizing  in  the 
Academy  with  some  of  his  acquaintance,  asked  what  old 
man  that  was.  And  it  being  answered.  He  is  a  wise  man, 
and  one  of  those  that  seek  after  virtue  ;  he  replied.  When 
will  he  use  it,  if  he  is  seeking  of  it  now  ]  Another  time, 
when  he  heard  a  philosopher  discoursing  that  none  but  a 


*  Following  Wyttenbach’s  emendation  for  “  I  have  lost  my  post.”  (G.) 


452 


LACONIC  APOPHTHEGMS.. 


learned  man  could  be  a  good  general,  he  said,  Indeed  the 
discourse  is  admirable,  but  he  that  makes  it  is  of  no  credit 
in  this  matter,  for  he  hath  never  heard  a  trumpet  sound. 
Just  as  Xenocrates  had  finished  his  discourse,  Eudamidas 
came  into  his  school,  and  when  one  of  his  companions  said. 
As  soon  as  we  came  he  ended ;  So  he  ought,  he  replied,  if 
he  had  spoken  all  that  was  needful  on  the  subject.  And 
the  other  saying.  Yet  it  were  a  pleasant  thing  to  hear  him, 
he  replied.  If  we  visited  one  that  had  supped  already, 
should  we  desire  him  to  sit  down  again?  When  one  asked 
him  why,  when  all  the  citizens  voted  a  war  with  the 
Macedonians,  he  appeared  for  peace,  he  answered.  Because 
I  have  no  mind  to  convince  them  of  their  mistake.  And 
when  another  encouraged  them  to  this  war,  mentioning 
their  various  victories  over  the  Persians,  he  said.  Sir,  you 
appear  not  to  see  that  this  would  be  as  absurd  as  to  set 
upon  fifty  wolves  because  you  have  beaten  a  thousand 
sheep.  A  musician  playing  very  well,  some  asked  him 
what  manner  of  man  he  was  in  his  opinion,  and  he  an¬ 
swered,  A  great  seducer  in  a  small  matter.  Hearing  one 
commending  Athens,  he  said.  Who  could  have  reason  to 
praise  that  city  which  no  man  ever  loved  because  he  had 
been  made  better  in  it?  An  Argive  saying  that  the  Spar¬ 
tans  being  taken  from  their  own  customs  grew  worse  by 
travel,  he  replied.  But  you,  when  you  come  into  Sparta,  do 
not  return  worse,  but  much  better.  When  Alexander 
ordered  by  public  proclamation  in  the  Olympic  games, 
that  all  exiles  whatever,  except  the  Thebans,  had  free 
liberty  to  return  to  their  own  country,  Eudamidas  said : 
This  is  a  woful  proclamation  to  you  Thebans,  but  yet  hon¬ 
orable  ;  for  of  all  the  Grecians  xllexander  fears  only  you. 
Being  asked,  why  before  a  battle  they  sacrificed  to  the 
Muses,  he  replied,  That  our  brave  actions  may  be  worthily 
recorded. 


LACONIC  APOPHTHEGMS. 


453 


Of  Eurycratidas  the  Son  of  Anaxandridas, 

Eurvcratidas  the  son  of  Anaxandridas,  when  one  ashed 
him  why  the  Ephor  sat  every  day  to  determine  causes 
about  contracts,  replied,  That  we  may  learn  to  keep  our 
word  even  with  our  enemies. 

Of  Zeuxidamus. 

\ 

Zeuxidamus,  when  one  asked  him  why  they  did  not  set 
down  all  their  laws  concerning  bravery  and  courage  in 
writing  and  let  the  young  men  read  them,  answered.  Be¬ 
cause  thev  should  be  accustomed  to  mind  valiant  actions, 
rather  than  books  and  writings.  An  Aetolian  saying  that 
war  was  better  than  peace  for  those  that  would  be  brave 
men.  No,  faith,  said  he,  but  death  is  better  than  life. 

Of  Herondas. 

Herondas,  when  one  at  Athens  was  condemned  for  idle¬ 
ness,  being  informed  of  it  desired  one  to  show  him  the 
man  that  had  been  convicted  of  so  gentlemanly  an  offence. 

Of  Thearidas, 

Thearidas  whetting  his  sword,  being  asked.  Is  it  sharp, 
Thearidas^  replied.  Yes,  sharper  than  a  slander. 

Of  Themisteas. 

Tliemisteas  the  prophet  foretold  to  King  Leonidas  his 
own  and  his  soldiers’  destruction  at  Thermopylae,  and  be¬ 
ing  commanded  by  Leonidas  to  return  to  Sparta,  under 
pretence  of  informing  the  state  how  affairs  stood,  but  really 
that  he  might  not  perish  with  the  rest,  he  refused,  saying, 
I  was  sent  as  a  soldier,  not  as  a  courier  to  carry  news. 

Of  Theopompus. 

Theopompus,  when  one  asked  him  how  a  monarch  may  be 
safe,  replied,  If  he  will  give  his  friends  just  freedom  to  speak- 


454 


LACONIC  APOPHTHEGMS. 


the  truth,  and  to  the  best  of  his  power  not  allow  his  sub¬ 
jects  to  be  oppressed.  To  a  guest  of  his  that  said,  In  my 
own  country  I  am  called  a  lover  of  the  Spartans,  he  replied, 
It  would  be  more  honorable  for  you  to  be  called  a  lover  of 
your  citizens  than  a  lover  of  the  Spartans.  An  ambassa¬ 
dor  from  Elis  saying  that  his  city  sent  him  because  he  was 
the  only  man  amongst  them  that  admired  and  followed  the 
Spartan  way  of  living,  Theopompus  asked.  And  pray,  sir, 
which  way  is  best,  yours  or  the  other  citizens  ?  And  the 
ambassador  replying.  Mine ;  he  subjoined.  How  then  can 
that  city  stand,  in  wdiich  amongst  so  many  inhabitants 
there  is  but  one  good  man  When  one  said  that  Sparta 
was  preserved  because  the  kings  knew  how  to  govern  ;  ^so, 
he  replied,  but  because  the  citizens  know  how  to  be  gov¬ 
erned.  The  Pylians  voting  him  greater  honors,  he  wrote  to 
them  thus.  Moderate  honors  time  augments,  but  it  defaces 
the  immoderate. 

Of  Thorycion, 

Thorycion  on  his  return  from  Delphi,  seeing  Philip’s 
army  possessed  of  the  narrow  passage  at  the  Isthmus,  said, 
Peloponnesus  hath  very  bad  porters  in  you  Corinthians. 

Of  Thectamenes. 

Thectamenes,  when  the  Ephors  condemned  him  to  die, 
went  away  smiling ;  and  one  of  the  company  asked  him 
whether  he  despised  the  judicial  proceedings  of  Sparta. 
No,  said  he,  but  I  am  glad  that  I  am  ordered  to  pay  a  fine 
which  I  can  pay  out  of  my  own  stock,  without  being  be¬ 
holden  to  any  man  or  taking  up  money  upon  interest. 

Of  Hippodamus, 

Hippodamus,  when  Agis  was  joined  in  command  with 
Archidamus,  being  sent  with  Agis  to  Sparta  to  look  after 
affairs  there,  said.  But  shall  I  not  die  a  more  glorious  death 


LACONIC  APOPHTHEGMS. 


•  455 


fighting  valiantly  in  defence  of  Sparta?  He  was  above 
fourscore  years  of  age,  yet  he  put  on  his  armor,  fought  on 
the  right  hand  of  the  king,  and  died  bravely. 

Of  Hippocratidas. 

Hippocratidas,  when  the  governor  of  Caria  sent  him 
word  that  he  had  a  Spartan  in  his  hands  who  concealed  a 
conspiracy  that  he  was  privy  to,  and  asked  how  he  should 
deal  with  him,  returned  this  answer :  If  you  have  done 
him  any  great  kindness,  kill  him ;  if  not,  banish  him  as  a 
base  fellow,  too  mean-spirited  to  be  good.  A  youth  whom- 
his  lover  followed  meeting  him  and  blushing  at  the  em 
counter,  he  said:  You  should  keep  such  company  that, 
whoever  sees  you,  you  will  have  no  reason  to  change  color. 

Of  Callicratidas, 

Callicratidas  the  admiral,  when  some  of  Lysander’s 
friends  desired  him  to  permit  them  to  kill  one  of  the  enemy, 
and  offered  fifty  talents  for  the  favor,  though  he  wanted 
money  extremely  to  buy  provision  for  his  soldiers,  refused ; 
and  when  Cleander  urged  him,  and  said.  Sir,  I  would  have 
taken  the  money  if  I  were  you,  he  replied.  So  would  I, 
were  I  Cleander.  When  he  came  to  Sardis  to  Cyrus  the 
Younger,  who  was  then  an  ally  of  the  Lacedaemonians, 
about  a  sum  of  money  to  equip  his  navy,  on  the  first  day 
he  ordered  his  officers  to  tell  Cyrus  that  he  desired  audi- 
ence  ;  but  being  told  that  he  was  drinking.  Well,  said  he, 
1  shall  stay  till  he  hath  done.  But  understanding  that  he 
could  not  be  admitted  that  day,  he  presently  left  the  court, 
and  thereupon  was  thought  a  rude  and  uncivil  fellow.  On 
the  next  day,  when  he  received  the  same  answer  and  could 
not  be  admitted,  he  said,  I  must  not  be  so  eager  for  money 
as  to  dc  any  thing  unbecoming  Sparta.  And  presently  he 
returned  to  Ephesus,  cursing  those  who  had  first  endured 
the  insolence  of  the  barbarians,  and  had  taught  them  to 


456 


LACONIC  APOPHTHEGMS. 


rely  upon  their  wealth  and  abuse  others  ;  and  he  swore  to 
his  companions  that  as  soon  as  ever  he  came  to  Sparta,  he 
would  do  all  that  lay  in  his  power  to  reconcile  the  Greek 
states,  that  they  might  be  more  dreadful  to  the  barbarians, 
and  not  forced  to  seek  assistance  from  them  to  ruin  one 
another.  Being  asked  what  manner  of  men  the  lonians 
were,  he  replied.  Bad  freemen,  but  good  slaves.  When 
Cyrus  sent  his  soldiers  their  pay,  and  some  particular  pres¬ 
ents  to  himself,  he  received  the  pay,  but  sent  back  the 
presents,  saying  that  there  was  no  need  of  any  private 
friendship  between  them,  for  the  common  league  with  the 
Lacedaemonians  included  him.  Designing  to  engage  near 
Arginusae,  when  Hermon  the  pilot  said,  It  is  advisable  to 
tack  about,  for  the  xA^thenians  exceed  us  in  number ;  he  ex¬ 
claimed  :  What  then  !  it  is  base  and  dishonorable  to  Sparta 
to  fly,  but  to  stand  to  it  and  die  br  conquer  is  brave  and 
noble.  As  he  was  sacrificing  before  the  battle,  when  he 
heard  the  priest  presaging  that  the  army  would  conquer 
but  the  captain  fall,  undauntedly  he  said :  Sparta  doth  not 
depend  on  one  man ;  my  country  will  receive  no  great  loss 
by  my  death,  but  a  considerable  one  by  my  yielding  to  the 
enemy.  And  ordering  Cleander  to  succeed  as  admiral,  he 
readily  engaged,  and  died  in  the  battle. 

Of  Cleomhrotus  the  Son  of  Paiisanias, 

Cleombrotus,  the  son  of  Pausanias,  when  a  friend  of  his 
contended  with  his  father  which  was  the  best  man,  said, 
Sir,  my  father  must  be  better  than  you,  till  you  get  a  son 
as  well  as  he. 

Of  Cleomenes  the  Son  of  Anaxandridas. 

Cleomenes,  the  son  of  Anaxandridas,  was  wont  to  say 
that  Homer  was  the  poet  of  the  Lacedaemonians,  Hesiod 
of  the  Helots  ;  for  one  taught  the  art  of  war,  and  the  other 
husbandry.  Having  made  a  truce  for  seven  days  with  the 


LACOxMC  APOPHTHEGMS. 


457 


Argives,  he  watched  his  opportunity  the  third  night,  and 
perceiving  them  secure  and  negligent  by  reason  of  the 
truce,  he  fell  upon  them  whilst  they  were  asleep,  killed 
some,  and  took  others  prisoners.  Upon  this  being  up¬ 
braided  for  breach  of  articles,  he  said  that  his  oath  did  not 
extend  to  night  as  well  as  day,  and  to  hurt  a  man’s  enemies 
any  way,  both  before  God  and  man,  was  much  better  than 
to  be  just.  It  happened  that  he  missed  taking  Argos,  in 
hopes  of  which  he  broke  his  oath for  the  Avomen  taking 
the  old  arms  out  of  the  temples  defended  the  city.  And 
aftei'Avards  running  stark  mad,  he  seized  a  knife,  and  ripped 
himself  up  from  the  very  ankles  to  the  vital  parts,  and  thus 
died  grinning  and  laughing.  The  priest  advising  him  not 
to  march  to  Argos,  —  for  he  would  be  forced  to  a  dishon¬ 
orable  retreat,  —  when  he  came  near  the  city  and  saw  the 
gates  shut  and  the  women  upon  the  walls,  he  said :  What, 
sir  priests,  Avill  this  be  a  dishonorable  retreat,  Avhen,  the 
men  being  all  lost,  the  Avomen  have  shut  the  gates  ?  When 
some  of  the  ArgiA^es  railed  at  him  as  an  impious  and  for- 
SAVorn  Avretch,  he  said.  Well,  it  is  in  your  j^OAver  to  rail  at 
me,  and  in  mine  to  mischief  you.  The  Samian  ambassa¬ 
dors  urging  him  to  make  Avar  on  the  tyrant  Polycrates,  and 
making  long  harangues  on  that  account,  he  said:  The' be¬ 
ginning  of  your  speech  I  don’t  remember,  and  therefore  I 
cannot  understand  the  middle,  and  the  last  I  don’t  like.  A 
pirate  spoiling  the  country,  and  Avhen  he  Avas  taken  saying, 
I  had  no  provision  for  my  soldiers,  and  therefore  Avent  to 
those  Avho  liad  store  and  Avould  not  give  it  Avillingly,  to  force 
it  from  them  ;  Cleomenes  said.  True  villainy  goes  the 
shortest  Avay  to  Avork.  A  base  felloAV  railing  at  him,  he 
said.  Well,  I  think  thou  railest  at  everybody,  that  being 
employed  to  defend  ourselves,  Ave  may  have  no  time  to 
speak  of  thy  baseness. 

One  of  the  citizens  saying  that  a  good  king  should  be 
ahvays  mild  and  gracious,  True,  said  he,  as  long  as  he  doth 


458 


LACONIC  APOPHTHEGMS. 


not  make  himself  contemptible.  Being  tormented  with  a 
long  disease,  he  consulted  the  priests  and  expiators,  to 
whom  he  formerly  gave  no  credit ;  and  when  a  friend  of 
his  wondered  at  the  action,  Why  dost  thou  wonder,  said  he, 
for  I  am  not  the  same  man  I  was  then  ;  and  since  I  am  not 
the  same,  I  do  not  approve  the  same  things.  A  Sophist 
discoursing  of  courage,  he  laughed  exceedingly ;  and  the 
Sophist  saying,  Why  do  you  laugh,  Cleomenes,  Avhen  you 
hear  one  treat  of  courage,  especially  since  you  are  a  king  ? 
Because,  sir,  said  he,  if  a  swallow  should  discourse  of  it,  I 
should  laugh ;  but  if  an  eagle,  I  should  hearken  atten¬ 
tively. 

When  the  Argives  boasted  that  they  would  retrieve  their 
defeat  by  a  new  battle,  he  said,  I  wonder  if  the  addition  of 
two  syllables  ^  has  made  you  braver  than  you  were  before. 
When  one  railed  at  him,  and  said.  Thou  art  luxurious, 
Cleomenes;  Well,  he  replied,  that  is  better  than  to  be 
unjust ;  but  thou  art  covetous,  although  thou  art  master  of 
abundance  of  superfluities.  A  friend  willing  to  recom¬ 
mend  a  musician  to  him,  besides  other  large  commendations, 
said  he  was  the  best  musician  in  all  Greece.  Cleomenes, 
pointing  to  one  that  stood  by,  said.  Faith,  sir,  that  fellow  is 
my  best  cook.  Maeander  the  Samian  tyrant,  flying  to  Sparta 
upon  the  invasion  of  the  Persian,  discovering  what  treasure 
he  had  brought,  and  offering  Cleomenes  as  much  as  he 
would  have,  Cleomenes  refused,  and  beside  took  care  that 
he  should  not  give  any  of  the  citizens  a  farthing  ;  but  going 
to  the  Ephors,  told  them  that  it  would  be  good  for  Sparta 
to  send  that  Samian  guest  of  his  out  of  Peloponnesus,  lest 
he  should  persuade  any  of  the  Lacedaemonians  to  be  a 
knave.  And  they  taking  his  advice  ordered  Maeander  to 
be  gone  that  very  day.  One  asking  why,  since  they  had 
beaten  the  Argives  so  often,  they  did  not  totally  destroy 
them,  he  replied.  That  we  may  have  some  to  exercise  our 

*  That  is,  changing  hux^gOul  {to  Jight)  into  uvagux^oOai  {to  retrieve  a  defeat).  (G.) 


LACONIC  APOPHTHEGMS. 


459 


youth.  One  demanding  why  the  Spartans  did  not  dedicate 
the  spoils  of  their  enemies  to  the  Gods,  Because,  said  he, 
they  are  taken  from  cowards  ;  and  such  things  as  are 
betrayed  to  us  by  the  cowardice  of  the  possessors  are  fit 
neither  for  our  youth  to  see,  nor  to  be  dedicated  to  the 
Gods. 


Of  Cleornenes  the  Son  of  Cleonibrotus. 

Cleomenes,  the  son  of  Cleombrotus,  to  one  that  presented 
him  some  game-cocks,  and  said.  Sir,  these  will  die  before 
they  run,  returned :  Pray  let  me  have  some  of  that  breed 
which  will  kill  these,  for  certainly  they  are  the  better  of 
the  two. 

Of  Lahotus, 

Labotus  said  to  one  that  made  a  long  discourse :  Why 
such  great  preambles  to  so  small  a  matter  1  K  speech 
should  be  no  bigger  than  the  subject. 

Of  Leotychidas. 

Leotychidas  the  First,  when  one  said  he  was  very  incon¬ 
stant,  replied.  My  inconstancy  proceeds  from  the  variety  of 
times,  and  not  as  yours  from  innate  baseness.  And  to  an¬ 
other  asking  him  what  was  the  best  way  to  secure  his  pres¬ 
ent  happiness,  he  answered.  Not  to  trust  all  to  Fortune. 
And  to  another  enquiring  what  free-born  boys  should  prin¬ 
cipally  learn.  That,  said  he,  which  will  profit  them  when 
they  are  grown  men.  And  to  another  asking  why  the 
Spartans  drink  little,  he  replied.  That  we  may  consult  con¬ 
cerning  others,  and  not  others  concerning  us. 

Of  ■  Leotychidas  the  Son  of  Aristo, 

Leotychidas  the  son  of  Aristo,  when  one  told  him  that 
Demaratus’s  sons  spake  ill  of  him,  replied.  Faith,  no 
wonder,  for  not  one  of  them  can  speak  well.  A  serpent 


460 


LACONIC  APOPHTHEGMS. 


twisting  about  the  key  of  his  inmost  door,  and  the  priests 
declaring  it  a  prodigy ;  I  cannot  think  it  so,  said  he,  but  it 
'  had  been  one  if  the  key  had  twisted  round  the  serpent. 
To  Philip,  a  priest  of  Orpheus’s  mysteries,  in  extreme  pov¬ 
erty,  saying  that  those  whom  he  initiated  were  very  happy 
after  death,  he  said,  AVhy  then,  you  sot,  don’t  you  die 
quickly,  and  bewail  your  poverty  and  misery  no  more  ? 

Of  Leo  the  Son  of  Eiicratidas. 

Leo  the  son  of  Eiicratidas,  being  asked  in  what  city  a 
man  might  live  with  the  greatest  safety,  replied,  In  that 
where  the  inhabitants  have  neither  too  much  nor  too  little  ; 
where  justice  is  strong  and  injustice  weak.  Seeing  the 
racers  in  the  Olympian  games  very  solicitous  at  starting  to 
get  some  advantage  of  one  another,  he  said.  How  much 
more  careful  are  these  racers  to  be  counted  swift  than  just ! 
To  one  discoursing  of  some  profitable  matters  out  of  due 
season  he  said,  Sir,  you  do  a  very  good  thing  at  a  very  bad 
time. 


Of  Leonidas  the  Son  of  Anaxandridas. 

Leonidas,  the  son  of  Anaxandridas  and  brother  to  Cleo- 
menes,  when  one  said  to  him.  Abating  that  you  are  king, 
you  are  no  better  than  we,  replied,  But  unless  I  had  been 
better  than  you,  I  had  not  been  king.  His  wife  Gorge, 
when  he  went  "forth  to  Thermopylae  to  fight  the  Persian, 
asked  him  what  command  he  left  with  her ;  and  he  replied, 
Marry  brave  men,  and  bear  them  brave  children.  The 
Ephors  saying.  You  lead  but  few  to  Thermopylae ;  They 
are  many,  said  he,  considering  on  what  design  we  go.  And 
when  they  again  asked  him  whether  he  had  any  other  en¬ 
terprise  in  his  thought,  he  replied,  I  pretend  to  go  to  hinder 
the  barbarians’  passage,  but  really  to  die  fighting  for  the 
Greeks.  When  he  was  at  Thermopylae,  he  said  to  his 
soldiers :  They  report  the  enemy  is  at  hand,  and  we  lose 


LACONIC  APOPHTHEGMS. 


461 


time ;  for  we  must  either  beat  the  barbarian  or  die  our¬ 
selves.  And  to  another  saying,  What,  the  flights  of  the 
Persian  arrows  will  darken  the  very  sun,  he  said,  Therefore 
it  will  be  pleasant  for  us  to  flght  in  the  shade.  And  an¬ 
other  saying,  AVhat,  Leonidas,  do  you  come  to  flght  so  great 
a  number  with  so  few  ?  —  he  returned  :  If  you  esteem  num¬ 
ber,  all  Greece  is  not  able  to  match  a  small  part  of  that 
army ;  if  courage,  this  number  is  sufficient.  And  to  an¬ 
other  discoursing  after  the  same  manner  he  said,  I  have 
enough,  since  they  are  to  be  killed.  When  Xerxes  wrote 
to  him  thus.  Sir,  you  may  forbear  to  fight  against  the  Gods, 
but  may  follow  my  interest  and  be  lord  of  all  Greece,  he 
answered :  If  you  understood  wherein  consisted  the  happi¬ 
ness  of  life,  you  would  not  covet  other  men’s ;  but  know 
that  I  would  rather  die  for  the  liberty  of  Greece  than  be  a 
monarch  over  my  countrymen.  And  Xerxes  writing  to  him 
again  thus.  Send  me  thy  arms,  he  returned.  Come  and  take 
them.  When  he  resolved  to  fall  upon  the  enemy,  and  his 
captains  of  the  war  told  him  he  must  stay  till  the  forces  of 
the  allies  had  joined  him,  he  said:  Do  you  think  all  those 
that  intend  to  fight  are  not  here  already'?  Or  do  you  not 
understand  that  those  only  flght  who  fear  and  reverence 
their  kings '?  And  he  ordered  his  soldiers  so  to  dine,  as  if 
they  were  to  sup  in  another  world.  And  being  asked  why 
the  bravest  men  prefer  an  honorable  death  before  an  inglo¬ 
rious  life,  he  replied.  Because  they  believe  one  is  the  gift 
of  Nature,  while  the  other  is  peculiarly  their  own.  Being 
desirous  to  save  the  striplings  that  were  with  him,  and 
knowing  very  well  that  if  he  dealt  openly  with  them  none 
would  accept  his  kindness,  he  gave  eacli  of  them  privately 
letters  to  carry  to  the  Ephors.  He  desired  likewise  to  save 
three  of  those  that  were  grown  men  ;  but  they  having  some 
notice  of  his  design  refused  the  letters.  And  one  of  them 
said,  I  came,  sir,  to  be  a  soldier,  and  not  a  courier ;  and 
the  second,  I  shall  be  a  better  man  if  here  than  if  away ; 


462 


LACONIC  APOPHTHEGMS. 


and  the  third,  I  will  not  be  behind  these,  but  the  first  in 
the  fight. 

Of  Lochagus. 

Lochagus  the  father  of  Polyaenides  and  Siron,  when 
one  told  him  one  of  his  sons  was  dead,  said,  I  knew  long 
ago  that  he  must  die. 

Of  Lycurgus  the  Lawgiver, 

Lycurgus  the  lawgiver,  designing  to  reclaim  his  citizens 
from  their  former  luxury  and  bring  them  to  a  more  sober 
course  of  life  and  make  them  brave  men  (for  they  were 
then  loose  and  delicate),  bred  up  two  whelps  of  the  same 
litter ;  one  he  kept  at  home,  bred  him  tenderly,  and  fed 
him  well ;  but  the  other  he  taught  to  hunt,  and  used  him 
to  the  chase.  Both  these  dogs  he  brought  out  into  the 
public  assembly,  and  setting  down  some  scraps  of  meat  and 
letting  go  a  hare  at  the  same  time,  each  of  the  dogs  ran 
greedily  to  what  they  had  been  accustomed.  And  the 
hunter  catching  the  hare,  Lycurgus  said :  See,  countrymen, 
how  these  two,  though  of  the  same  litter,  by  my  breeding 
them  are  become  very  different ;  and  that  custom  and  exer¬ 
cise  conduces  more  than  Nature  to  make  things  brave  and 
excellent.  Some  say  that  he  did  not  bring  out  two  whelps 
of  the  same  kind,  but  one  a  house  dog  and  the  other  a 
hunter ;  the  former  of  which  (though  the  baser  kind)  he 
had  accustomed  to  the  woods,  and  the  other  (though  more 
noble)  kept  lazily  at  home  ;  and  when  in  public,  each  of 
them  pursuing  his  usual  delight,  he  had  given  a  clear  evi¬ 
dence  that  education  is  of  considerable  force  in  raising  bad 
or  good  inclinations,  he  said :  Therefore,  countrymen,  our 
honorable  extraction,  that  idol  of  the  crowd,  though  from 
Hercules  himself,  profits  us  little,  unless  we  learn  and  ex¬ 
ercise  all  our  life  in  such  famous  exploits  as  made  him 
accounted  the  most  noble  and  the  most  glorious  in  the 
world. 


LACONIC  APOPHTHEGMS. 


463 


When  he  made  a  division  of  the  land,  giving  each  man 
an  equal  portion,  it  is  reported  that  some  while  after,  in 
his  return  from  a  journey,  as  he  past  through  the  country 
in  harvest  time  and  saw  the  cocks  of  wheat  all  equal  and 
lying  promiscuously,  he  was  extremely  pleased,  and  with  a 
smile  said  to  his  companions.  All  Sparta  looks  like  the  pos¬ 
session  of  many  loving  brothers  who  have  lately  divided 
their  estate.  Having  discharged  every  man  from  his  debts, 
he  endeavored  likewise  to  divide  all  movables  equally 
amongst  all,  that  he  might  have  no  inequality  in  his  com¬ 
monwealth.  But  seeing  that  the  rich  men  would  hardly 
endure  this  open  and  apparent  spoil,  he  cried  down  all 
gold  and  silver  coin,  and  ordered  nothing  but  iron  to  be 
current ;  and  rated  every  man’s  estate  and  defined  how 
much  it  was  worth  upon  exchange  for  that  money.  By 
this  means  all  injustice  was  banished  Sparta  ;  for  none 
would  steal,  none  take  bribes,  none  cheat  or  rob  any  man 
of  that  which  he  could  not  conceal,  which  none  would 
envy,  which  could  not  be  used  without  discovery,  or  carried 
into  other  countries  with  advantage.  Besides,  this  contriv¬ 
ance  freed  them  from  all  superfluous  arts  ;  for  no  merchant. 
Sophist,  fortune-teller,  or  mountebank  would  live  amongst 
them ;  no  carver,  no  contriver  ever  troubled  Sparta ;  be¬ 
cause  he  cried  down  all  money  that  was  advantageous  to 
them,  and  permitted  none,  but  this  iron  coin,  each  piece 
of  which  was  an  Aegina  pound  in  weight,  and  less  than  a 
penny  in  value.^*  Designing  farther  to  check  all  luxury 
and  greediness  after  wealth,  he  instituted  public  meals, 
where  all  the  citizens  were  obliged  to  eat.  And  when 
some  of  his  friends  demanded  what  he  designed  by  this 
institution  and  why  he  divided  the  citizens,  when  in  arms, 
into  small  companies,  he  replied :  That  they  may  more 


*  According  to  Plutarch,  the  Spartan  iron  coin  weighed  an  Aeginetan  mina 
(about  lbs.  avoir.),  and  was  of  the  value  of  four  chalci  (or  farthings,  about  li 
cents).  (G.) 


464 


LACONIC  ArorilTHEGMS. 


easily  hear  the  word  of  command  ;  and  if  there  are '  any 
designs  against  the  state,  the  conspiracy  may  join  but 
few ;  and  besides,  that  there  may  be  an  equality  in  the 
provision,  and  that  neither  in  meat  nor  drink,  seats,  tables, 
or  any  furniture,  the  rich  may  be  better  provided  than  the 
poor.  When  he  had  by  this  contrivance  made  wealth  less 
desirable,  it  being  unfit  both  for  use  and  show,  he  said  to 
his  familiars,  AVhat  a  brave  thing  is  it,  my  friends,  by  our 
actions  to  make  Plutus  appear  (as  he  is  indeed)  blind ! 
He  took  care  that  none  should  sup  at  home  and  afterwards, 
when  they  were  full  of  other  victuals,  come  to  the  public 
entertainments ;  for  all  the  rest  reproached  him  that  did 
not  feed  with  them  as  a  glutton  and  of  too  delicate  a  pal¬ 
ate  for  the  public  provision ;  and  when  he  was  discovered, 
he  was  severely  punished.  And  therefore  Agis  the  king, 
when  after  a  long  absence  he  returned  from  the  camp. (the 
Athenians  were  beaten  in  the  expedition),  willing  to  sup 
at  home  with  his  wife  once,  sent  a  servant  for  his  allow¬ 
ance  ;  the  officers  refused,  and  the  next  day  the  Ephors 
fined  him  for  the  fault. 

The  wealthy  citizens  being  offended  at  these  constitu¬ 
tions  made  a  mutiny  against  him,  abused,  threw  stones, 
and  designed  to  kill  him.  Thus  pursued,  he  ran  through 
the  market-place  towards  the  temple  of  Minerva  of  the 
Brazen  House,  and  reached  it  before  any  of  the  others ; 
only  Alcander  pursuing  close  struck  him  as  he  turned 
about,  and  beat  out  one  eye.  Afterward  the  commonwealth 
delivered  up  this  Alcander  to  his  mercy ;  but  he  neither 
inflicted  any  punishment  nor  gave  him  an  ill  word,  but 
kindly  entertained  him  at  his  own  house,  and  brought  him 
to  be  his  friend,  an  admirer  of  his  course  of  life,  and  very 
well  affected  to  all  bis  laws.  Yet  he  built  a  monument  of 
this  sad  disaster  in  the  temple  of  Minerva,  naming  it  Op- 
tiletis,  —  for  the  Dorians  in  that  country  call  eyes  optiloL 
Being  asked  why  he  used  no  written  laws,  he  replied.  Be- 


LACO^JIC  APOPHTHEGMS. 


465 


cause  those  that  are  well  instructed  are  able  to  suit  matters 
to  the  present  occasion.  And  another  time,  when  some 
enquired  why  he  •  had  ordained  that*  the  timber  which 
roofed  the  houses  should  be  wrought  with  the  axe  only, 
and  the  doors  with  no  other  instrument  but  the  saw,  he 
answered :  That  my  citizens  might  be  moderate  in  every 
thing  which  they  bring  into  their  houses,  and  possess  noth¬ 
ing  which  others  so  much  prize  and  value.  And  hence 
it  is  reported  that  King  Leotychides  the  First,  supping  with 
a  friend  and  seeing  the  roof  curiously  arched  and  richly 
wrought,  asked  him  whether  in  that  country  the  trees  grew 
square.  And  some  demanding  why  he  forbade  them  to 
war  often  with  the  same  nation,  he  replied.  Lest  being 
often  forced  to  stand  on  their  defence,  they  should  get  ex¬ 
perience  and  be  masters  of  our  art.  And  therefore  it  was  a 
great  bruit  in  Agesilaus,  that  by  his  frequent  incursions 
into  Boeotia  he  made  the  Thebans  a  match  for  the  Lace¬ 
daemonians.  And  another  asking  why  he  exercised  the 
virgins’  bodies  with  racing,  wrestling,  throwing  the  bar,  and 
the  like,  he  answered  :  That  the  first  rooting  of  the  children 
being  strong  and  firm,  their  growth  might  be  proportion- 
able  ;  and  that  the  women  might  have  strength  to  bear  and 
more  easily  undergo  the  pains  of  travail,  or,  if  necessity 
should  require,  be  able  to  fight,  for  themselves,  their  coun¬ 
try,  and  their  children.  Some  being  displeased  that  the 
virgins  went  about  naked  at  certain  solemnities,  and  de¬ 
manding  the  reason  of  that  custom,  he  replied  :  That  using 
the  same  exercises  with  men,  they  might  equal  them  in 
strength  and  health  of  body  and  in  courage  and  bravery 
of  mind,  and  be  above  that  mean  opinion  which  the  vulgar 
had  of  them.  And  hence  goes  the  story  of  Gorgo,  wife 
of  Leonidas,  that  when  a  stranger,  a  friend  of  hers,  said, 
You  Spartan  women  alone  rule  men,  she  replied.  Good 
reason,  for  we  alone  bear  men.  By  ordering  that  no  bache¬ 
lor  should  be  admitted  a  spectator  of  these  naked  solemnities 


466 


LACONIC  APOPHTHEGMS. 


and  fixing  some  other  disgrace  on  them,  he  made  them  all  ea¬ 
ger  to  be  married  and  get  children  ;  besides,  he  deprived  tliem 
of  that  honor  and  observance  which  the  young  men  were 
bound  to  pay  their  elders.  And  upon  that  account  none 
can  blame  what  was  said  to  Dercyllidas,  though  a  brave 
captain ;  for  as  he  approached,  one  of  the  young  men 
refused  to  rise  up  and  give  him  place,  saying.  You  have  . 
not  begotten  any  to  give  place  to  me. 

When  one  asked  him  why  he  allowed  no  dowry  to  be 
given  with  a  maid,  he  answered,  that  none  might  be  slighted 
for  their  poverty  or  courted  for  their  wealth,  but  that  every 
one,  considering  the  manners  of  the  maid,  might  choose 
for  the  sake  of  virtue.  And  for  the  same  reason  he  for¬ 
bade  all  painting  of  the  face  and  curiousness  in  dress  and 
ornament.  To  one  that  asked  him  why  he  made  a  law 
tliat  before  such  an  age  neither  sex  should  marry,  he  an¬ 
swered,  that  the  children  might  be  lusty,  being  born  of 
persons  of  full  age.  And  to  one  wondering  why  he  would 
not  suffer  the  husband  to  lie  all  night  with  his  wife,  but 
commanded  them  to  be  most  of  the  day  and  all  the  night 
with  their  fellows,  and  creep  to  their  wives  cautiously  and 
by  stealth,  he  said  :  I  do  it  that  they  may  be  strong  in 
body,  having  never  been  satiated  and  surfeited  with  pleas¬ 
ure  ;  that  they  may  be  alwaj^s  fresh  in  love,  and  their  chil¬ 
dren  more  strong  and  lusty.  He  forbade  all  perfumes,  as 
nothing  but  good  oil  corrupted,  and  the  dyer’s  art,  as  a 
flatterer  and  enticerof  the  sense  ;  and  he  ejected  all  skilled 
in  ornament  and  dressing,  as  those  who  by  their  lewd  de¬ 
vices  corrupt  the  true  arts  of  decency  and  living  well.  At 
that  time  the  women  were  so  chaste  and  such  strangers  to 
that  lightness  to  which  they  were  afterwards  addicted,  that 
adultery  was  incredible ;  and  there  goes  a  saying  of  Ge-  . 
radatas,  one  of  the  ancient  Spartans,  who  being  asked  by 
a  stranger  what  punishment  the  Spartans  appointed  for 
adulterers  (for  Lycurgus  mentioned  none),  he  said,  Sir,  we 


LACONIC  ArOPHTHEGMS. 


467 


have  no  adulterers  amongst  us.  And  he  replying,  But  sup¬ 
pose  there  should  be  ]  Geradatas  made  the  same  reply  ; 
For  how  (said  he)  could  there  be  an  adulterer  in  Sparta, 
where  wealth,  delicacy,  and  all  ornaments  are  disesteemqd, 
and  modesty,  neatness,  and  obedience  to  the  governors  only 
are  in  request?  When  one  desired'  him  to  establish  a  de¬ 
mocracy  in  Sparta,  he  said.  Pray,  sir,  do  you  first  set  up  that 
form  in  your  own  family.  And  to  another  demanding  why 
he  ordered  such  mean  sacrifices  he  answered.  That  we  may 
always  be  able  to  honor  the  Gods.  He  permitted  the  citi¬ 
zens  those  exercises  only  in  which  the  hand  is  not  stretched 
out ;  and  one  demanding  his  reason,  he  replied.  That  none 
in  any  labor  may  be  accustomed  to  be  weary.  And  an¬ 
other  enquiring  why  he  ordered  that  *in  a  war  the  camp 
should  be  often  changed,  he  answered,  That  we  may  damage 
our  enemies  the  more.  Another  demanding  why  he  for¬ 
bade  to  storm  a  castle,  he  said.  Lest  my  brave  men  should 
be  killed  by  a  woman,  a  boy,  or  some  man  of  as  mean 
courage. 

When  the  Thebans  asked  his  advice  about  the  sacrifices 
and  lamentation  which  they  instituted  in  honor  of  Leuco- 
thea,  he  gave  them  this  :  If  you  think  her  a  Goddess,  do 
not  lament ;  if  a  woman,  do  not  sacrifice  to  her  as  a  God¬ 
dess.  To  some  of  the  citizens  enquiring.  How  shall  we 
avoid  the  invasions  of  enemies,  he  replied.  If  you  are 
poor,  and  one  covets  no  more  than  another.  And  to  others 
demanding  why  he  did  not  wall  his  city  he  said.  That  city 
is  not  unwalled  which  is  encompassed  with  men  and  not 
brick.  The  Spartans  are  curious  in  their  hair,  and  tell  us 
that  Lycurgus  said.  It  makes  the  handsome  more  amiable, 
and  the  ugly  more  terrible.  He  ordered  that  in  a  war  they 
should  pursue  the  routed  enemy  so  far  as  to  secure  the 
victory,  and  then  retreat,  saying,  it  was  unbecoming  the 
Grecian  bravery  to  butcher  those  that  fied ;  and  beside, 
it  was  useful,  for  their  enemies,  knowing  that  they  spared 


468 


LACONIC  APOPHTHEGMS. 


all  that  yielded  and  cut  in  pieces  the  opposers,  would 
easily  conclude  that  it  was  safer  to  fly  than  to  stand  stoutly 
to  it  and  resist.  When  one  asked  him  why  he  charged  his 
soldiers  not  to  meddle  with  the  spoil  of  their  slain  enemies, 
he  replied,  Lest  while  they  are  eager  on  their  prey  they 
neglect  their  flghting,  but  also  that  they  may  keep  their 
order  and  their  poverty  together. 

Of  Lysander. 

Ly Sander,  when  Dionysius  sent  him  two  gowns,  and  bade 
him  choose  which  he  would  to  carry  to  his  daughter,  said^ 
She  can  choose  best;  and  so  took  both  away  with  him. 
This  Lysander  being  a  very  crafty  fellow,  frequently  using 
subtle  tricks  and  notable  deceits,  placing  all  justice  and 
honesty  in  profit  and  advantage,  would  confess  that  truth 
indeed  was  better  than  a  lie,  but  the  worth  and  dignity  of 
either  was  to  be  defined  by  their  usefulness  to  our  affairs. 
And  to  some  that  were  bitter  upon  him  for  these  deceitful 
practices,  as  unworthy  of  Hercules’s  family,  and  owing  his 
success  to  little  mean  tricks  and  not  plain  force  and  open 
dealing,  he  answered  with  a  smile.  When  the  lion’s  skin 
cannot  prevail,  a  little  of  the  fox’s  must  be  used.  And  to 
others  that  upbraided  him  for  breaking  his  oaths  made  at 
Miletus  he  said.  Boys  must  be  cheated  with  cockal-bones, 
and  men  with  oaths.  Having  surprised  the  Athenians  by 
an  ambush  near  the  Goat  Eivers  and  routed  them,  and  after¬ 
wards  by  famine  forced  the  city  to  surrender,  he  wrote  to 
the  Ephors,  Athens  is  taken.  When  the  Argives  were  in 
a  debate  with  the  Lacedaemonians  about  their  confines  and 
seemed  to  have  the  better  reasons  on  their  side,  drawing  his 
sword,  he  said.  Lie  that  hath  this  is  the  best  pleader  about 
confines.  Leading  his  army  through  Boeotia,  and  finding 
that  state  wavering  and  not  fixed  on  either  party,  he  sent  to 
know  whether  he  should  march  through  their  country  with 
his  spears  up  or  down.  At  an  assembly  of  the  states  of 


LACONIC  APOPHTHEGMS. 


469 


Greece,  when  a  Megarian  talked  saucily  to  him,  he  said,  Sir, 
your  words  want  a  city.  The  Corinthians  revolting,  and  he 
approaching  to  the  walls  that  he  saw  the  Spartans  not  eager 
to  storm,  while  at  the  same  time  hares  were  skipping  over 
the  trenches  of  the  town  ;  Are  not  you  ashamed  (said  he) 
to  be  afraid  of  those  enemies  whose  slothfulness  suffers 
even  hares  to  sleep  upon  their  walls  ?  At  Samothrace,  as 
he  was  consulting  the  oracle,  the  priests  ordered  him  to 
confess  the  greatest  crime  he  had  been  guilty  of  in  his 
whole  life.  What,  said  he,  is  this  your  own,  or  the  God’s 
command  ?  And  the  priests  replying,  The  God’s  ;  said  he. 
Do  you  withdraw,  and  I  will  tell  them,  if  they  make  any 
such  demand.  A  Persian  asking  him  what  polity  he  liked, 
That,  he  replied,  which  assigns  stout  men  and  cowards  suit¬ 
able  rewards.  To  one  that  said,  Sir,  I  always  commend 
you  and  speak  in  your  behalf, — Well,  said  he,  I  have  two 
oxen  in  the  field,  and  though  neither  says  one  word,  I  know 
very  well  which  is  the  laborious  and  which  the  lazy.  To 
one  that  railed  at  him  he  said.  Speak,  sir,  let  us  have  it  all 
fast,  if  thou  canst  empty  thy  soul  of  those  wicked  thoughts 
which  thou  seemest  full  of.  Some  time  after  his  death, 
there  happening  a  difference  between  the  Spartans  and 
their  allies,  Agesilaus  went  to  Lysander’s  house  to  inspect 
some  papers  that  lay  in  his  custody  relating  to  that  matter  ; 
and  there  found  an  oration  composed  for  Lysander  con¬ 
cerning  the  government,  setting  forth  that  it  was  expedient 
to  set  aside  the  families  of  the  Europrotidae  and  Agidae,  to 
admit  all  to  an  equal  claim,  and  choose  their  king  out  of 
the  worthiest  men,  that  the  crown  might*  be  the  reward  not 
of  those  that  shared  in  the  blood  of  Hercules,  but  of  those 
who  were  like  him  for  virtue  and  courage,  that  virtue  that 
exalted  him  into  a  God.  This  oration  Agesilaus  was  re¬ 
solved  to  publish,  to  show  the  Spartans  how  much  they 
were  mistaken  in  Lysander  and  to  discredit  his  friends ; 
but  they  say,  Cratidas  the  president  of  the  Ephors  fearing 


470 


LACONIC  APOPHTHEGMS 


this  oration,  if  published,  would-  prevail  upon  the  people, 
advised  Agesilaus  to  be  quiet,  telling  him  that  he  should 
not  dig  up  L}  Sander,  but  rather  bury  that  oration  with  him, 
being  so  cunningly  contrived,  so  powerful  to  persuade. 
Those  that  courted  his  daughters,  and  when  at  his  death 
he  appeared  to  be  poor  forsook  them,  the  Ephors  fined, 
because  whilst  they  thought  him  rich  they  caressed  him, 
but  scorned  him  when  by  his  poverty  they  knew  him  to  be 
just  and  honest. 

Of  Namertes. 

Namertes  being  on  an  embassy,  when  one  of  that  country 
told  him  he  was  a  happy  man  in  having  so  many  friends, 
asked  him  if  he  knew  any  certain  way  to  try  whether  a 
man  had  many  friends  or  not ;  and  the  other  being  earnest 
to  be  told,  Namertes  replied.  Adversity. 

Of  Nicander. 

Nicander,  when  one  told  him  that  the  Argives  spake 
very  ill  of  him,  said.  Well,  they  suffer  for  speaking  ill  of 
good  men.  And  to  one  that  enquired  why  they  wore  long 
hair  and  long  beards,  he  answered.  Because  man’s  natural 
ornaments  are  the  handsomest  and  the  cheapest.  An  Athe¬ 
nian  saying,  Nicander,  you  Spartans  are  extremely  idle ; 
You  say  true,  he  answered,  but  we  do  not  busy  ourselves 
like  you  in  every  trifle. 


Of  Panthoidas. 

When  Panthoidas  was  ambassador  in  Asia  and  some 
showed  him  a  strong  fortification.  Faith,  said  he,  it  is  a 
fine  cloister  for  women.  In  the  Acadeaiy,  when  the  phil¬ 
osophers  had  made  a  great  many  and  excellent  discourses, 
and  asked  Panthoidas  how  he  liked  them  ;  Indeed,  said  he, 
I  think  them  very  good,  but  of  no  profit  at  all,  since  you 
yourselves  do  not  use  them. 


LACONIC  APOPHTHEGMS. 


471 


Of  Pausanias  the  Son  of  Gleomhrotus. 

Pausanias  the  son  of  Cleombrotus,  when  the  Delians 
pleaded  their  title  to  the  island  against  the  Athenians,  and 
urged  that  according  to  their  law  no  women  were  ever 
brought  to  bed  or  any  carcass  buried  in  the  isle,  said. 
How  then  can  that  be  your  country,  in  which  not  one  of 
you  was  born  or  shall  ever  lie  1  The  exiles  urging  him  to 
march  against  the  Athenians,  and  saying  that,  when  he 
was  proclaimed  victor  in  the  Olympic  games,  these  alone 
hissed  ;  How,  says  he,  since  they  hissed  whilst  we  did  them 
good,  what  do  you  think  they  will  do  when  abused  ?  When 
one  asked  him  why  they  made  Tyrtaeus  the  poet  a  citizen, 
he  answered.  That  no  foreigner  should  be  our  captain.  A 
man  of  a  weak  and  puny  body  advising  to  fight  the  enemy 
both  by  sea  and  land ;  Pray,  sir,  says  he,  will  you  strip  and 
show  what  a  man  you  are  who  advise  to  engage  ?  When 
some  amongst  the  spoils  of  the  barbarians  admired  the 
richness  of  their  clothes ;  It  had  been  better,  he  said,  that 
they  had  been  men  of  worth  themselves  than  that  they 
should  possess  things  of  worth.  After  the  victory  over 
the  Medes  at  Plataea,  he  commanded  his  officers  to  set 
before  him  the  Persian  banquet  that  was  already  dressed  ; 
which  appearing  very  sumptuous.  By  heaven,  quoth  he, 
the  Persian  is  an  abominable  glutton,  who,  when  he  hath 
such  delicacies  at  home,  comes  to  eat  our  barley-cakes. 

Of  Pausanias  the  Son  of  Plistoanax. 

Pausanias,  the  son  of  Plistoanax  replied  to  one  that 
asked  him  why  it  was  not  lawful  for  the  Spartans  to  abro¬ 
gate  any  of  their  old  laws.  Because  men  ought  to  be  sub- 
ject  to  laws,  and  not  the  laws  to  men.  When  banislied 
and  at  Tegea,  he  commended  the  Lacedaemonians.  One 
said  to  him.  Why  then  did  you  not  stay  at  Sparta  ?  And 
he  returned.  Physicians  are  conversant  not  amongst  the 


472 


LACONIC  APOPHTHEGMS. 


healthy,  but  the  diseased.  To  one  asking  him  how  they 
should  conquer  the  Thracians,  he  replied.  If  we  make  the 
best  man  our  captain.  A  physician,  after  he  had  felt  his 
pulse  and  considered  his  constitution,  saying.  He  ails  noth¬ 
ing  ;  It  is  because,  sir,  he  replied,  I  use  none  of  your 
physic.  When  one  of  his  friends  blamed  him  for  giving 
a  physician  an  ill  character,  since  he  had  no  experience  of 
his  skill  nor  received  any  injury  from  him  ;  No,  faith,  said 
he,  for  had  I  tried  him,  I  had  not  lived  to  give  this  charac¬ 
ter.  And  when  the  physician  said.  Sir,  you  are  an  old  man  ; 
That  happens,  he  replied,  because  yon  were  never  my  doc¬ 
tor.  And  he  was  used  to  say,  that  he  was  the  best  physi¬ 
cian,  who  did  not  let  his  patients  rot  above  ground,  but 
quickly  buried  them. 

Of  Paedaretus. 

Paedaretus,  when  one  told  him  the  enemies  were  numer¬ 
ous,  said.  Therefore  we  shall  get  the  greater  reputation,  for 
we  shall  kill  the  more.  Seeing  a  man  soft  by  nature  and 
a  coward  commended  by  the  citizens  for  his  lenity  and  good 
disposition,  he  said,  We  should  not  praise  men  that  are  like 
women,  nor  women  that  are  like  men,  unless  some  extrem¬ 
ity  forceth  a  woman  to  stand  upon  her  guard.  When  he 
was  not  chosen  into  the  three  hundred  (the  chief  order  in 
the  city),  he  went  away  laughing  and  very  jocund  ;  and  the 
Ephors  calling  him  back  and  asking  why  he  laughed.  Why, 
said  he,  I  congratulate  the  happiness  of  the  city,  that  en¬ 
joys  three  hundred  citizens  better  than  myself. 

Of  Plistarchus. 

\ 

Plistarchus  the  son  of  Leonidas,  to  one  asking  him  why 
they  did  not  take  their  names  from  the  first  kings,  replied, 
Because  the  former  were  rather  captains  than  kings,  but 
the  later  otherwise.  A  certain  advocate  using  a  thousand 
little  jests  ^n  his  pleading ;  Sir,  said  he,  you  do  not  con- 


LACONIC  APOPHTHEGMS. 


473 


sider  that,  as  those  that  often  wrestle  are  wrestlers  at  last, 
so  you  by  often  exciting  laughter  will  become  ridiculous 
yourself.  When  one  told  him  that  an  notorious  railer 
spoke  well  of  him  ;  I’ll  lay  my  life,  said  he,  somebody  hath 
told  him  I  am  dead,  for  he  can  speak  well  of  no  man 
living. 


Of  PUstoanax. 

Plistoanax  the  son  of  Pausanias,  when  an  Athenian 
orator  called  the  Lacedaemonians  unlearned  fellows,  said, 
’Tis  true,  for  we  alone  of  all  the  Greeks  have  not  learned 
any  ill  from  you. 


Of  Polydorus. 

Polydorus  the  son  of  Alcamenes,  when  one  often  threat- 
ened  his  enemies,  said  to  him.  Do  not  you  perceive,  sir, 
that  you  waste  a  great  part  of  your  revenge]  As  he 
marched  his  army  against  Messene,  a  friend  asked  him  if 
he  would  fight  against  his  brothers  ?  No,  said  he,  but  I 
put  in  for  an  estate  to  which  none,  as  yet,  hath  any  good 
title.  The  Argives  after  the  fight  of  the  three  hundred 
being  totally^  routed  in  a  set  battle,  the  allies  urged  him  not 
to  let  the  opportunity  slip,  but  storm  and  take  the  city  of 
the  enemy ;  for  it  would  be  very  easy,  now  all  the  men 
were  destroyed  and  none  but  women  left.  He  replied :  I 
love  to  vanquish  my  enemies  when  I  fight  on  equal  terms  ; 
nor  do  I  think  it  just  in  him  who  was  commissioned  to 
contest  about  the  confines  of  the  two  states,  to  desire  to  be 
master  of  the  city ;  for  I  came  only  to  recover  our  own 
territories  and  not  to  seize  theirs.  Being  asked  once 
why  the  Spartans  ventured  so  bravely  in  battle  ;  Because, 
said  he,  we  have  learned  to  reverence  and  not  fear  our 
leaders. 


474 


LACONIC  APOPHTHEGMS. 


Of  Polycratidas. 


Polycratidas  being  joined  with  others  in  an  embassy  to 
the  lieutenants  of  the  king,  being  asked  whether  they  came 
as  private  or  public  persons,  returned,  If  we  obtain  our  ^ 
demands,  as  public ;  if  not,  as  private. 


Of  Phoebidas. 

Phoebidas,  just  before  the  battle  at  Leuctra,  when  some 
said.  This  day  will  show  who  is  a  brave  man,  replied,  ’Tis 
a  fine  day  indeed  that  can  show  a  brave  man  alive. 


Of  Soos. 

It  is  reported  of  Soos  that,  when  his  army  was  shut  up 
by  the  Clitorians  in  a  disadvantageous  strait  and  wanted 
water,  he  agreed  to  restore  all  the  places  he  had  taken, 
if  all  his  men  shoujd  drink  of  the  neighboring  fountain. 
Now  the  enemy,  had  secured  the  spring  and  guarded  it. 
These  articles  being  sworn  to,  he  convened  his  soldiers, 
and  promised  to  give  him  the  kingdom  who  would  forbear 
drinking  ;  but  none  accepting  it,  he  went  to  the  Avater, 
sprinkled  himself,  and  so  departed,  whilst  the  enemies 
looked  on ;  and  he  therefore  refused  to  restore  the  places, 
because  he  himself  had  not  drunk. 


Of  Telecrus. 

Telecrus,  to  one  reporting  that  his  father  spake  ill  of 
him,  replied.  He  would  not  speak  so  unless  he  had  reason 
for  it.  When  his  brother  said,  The  citizens  have  not  that 
kindness  for  me  they  have  for  you,  but  use  me  more  coarse¬ 
ly,  though  born  of  the  same  parents,  he  replied.  You  do 
not  know  how  to  bear  an  injury,  and  I  do.  Being  asked 
what  Avas  the  reason  of  that  custom  among  the  Spartans 
for  the  younger  to  rise  up  in  reA^erence  to  the  elder.  Be¬ 
cause,  said  he,  by  this  behavior  towards  those  to  Avhom 


LACONIC  APOPHTHEGMS. 


475 


they  have  no  relation,  they  may  learn  to  reverence  their 
parents  more.  To  one  enquiring  what  wealth  he  had,  he 
returned,  No  more  than  enough. 

Of  Charillus. 

Charillus  being  asked  why  Lycurgus  made  so  few  laws  ; 
Because,  he  replied,  those  whose  words  are  few  need  but 
few  laws.  Another  enquiring  why  their  virgins  appear  in 
public  unveiled,  and  their  wives  veiled ;  Because,  said  he, 
virgins  ought  to  find  husbands,  married  women  keep  those 
they  have.  To  a  slave  saucily  opposing  him  he  said,  I 
would  kill  thee  if  I  were  not  angry.  And  being  asked 
what  polity  he  thought  best ;  That,  said  he,  in  which  most 
of  the  citizens  without  any  disturbance  contend  about  vir¬ 
tue.  And  to  a  friend  enquiring  why  amongst  them  all  the 
images  of  the  Gods  were  armed  he  replied.  That  those 
reproaches  we  cast  upon  men  for  their,  cowardice  may  not 
'  refiect  upon  the  Gods,  and  that  our  youth  may  not  suppli¬ 
cate  the  Deities  unarmed. 


THE  EEMARKABLE  SPEECHES  OF  SOME  OBSCURE 
]\IEN  AMONGST  THE  SPARTANS. 

When  the  Samian  ambassadors  had  made  a  long  har¬ 
angue,  the  Spartans  answered.  We  have  forgot  the  first 
part,  and  so  cannot  understand  the  last.  To  the  Thebans 
violently  contesting  with  them  about  something  they  replied. 
Your  spirit  should  be  less,  or  your  forces  greater.  A  Lace¬ 
daemonian  being  asked  why  he  kept  his  beard  so  long  ; 
That  seeing  my  gray  hairs,  he  replied,  I  may  do  nothing 


476 


LACONIC  APOPHTHEGMS. 


but  what  becomes  them.  One  commending  the  best  war¬ 
riors,  a  Spartan  that  overheard  said,  At  Troy.  Another, 
hearing  that  some  forced  their  guests  to  drink  after  supper, 
said.  What !  not  to  eat  too  ?  Pindar  in  his  poems  having 
called  Athens  the  prop  of  Greece,  a  Spartan  said,  Greece 
would  soon  fall  if  it  leaned  on  such  a  prop.  When  one, 
seeing  the  Athenians  pictured  killing  the  Spartans,  said. 
The  Athenians  are  stout  fellows  ;  Yes,  subjoined  a  Spartan, 
in  a  picture.  To  one  that  was  very  attentive  to  a  scandal¬ 
ous  accusation  a  Spartan  said.  Pray,  sir,  be  not  prodigal  of 
your  ears  against  me.  And  to  one  under  correction  that 
cried  out,  I  offend  against  my  will,  another  said.  Therefore 
suffer  against  thy  will.  One  seeing  some  journeying  in  a 
chariot  said,  God  forbid  that  I  should  sit  where  I  cannot 
rise  up  to  reverence  my  elders.  Some  Chian  travellers 
vomiting  after  supper  in  the  consistory,  and  dunging  in  the 
very  seats  of  the  Ephors,  first  they  made  strict  inquiry 
whether  the  offenders  were  citizens  or  not ;  hut  finding  they 
were  Chians,  they  publicly  proclaimed  that  they  gave  the 
Chians  leave  to  he  filthy  and  uncivil. 

When  one  saw  a  merchant  sell  hard  almonds  at  double 
the  price  that  others  were  usually  sold  at,  he  said,  Aie 
stones  scarce  1  Another  pulling  a  nightingale,  and  finding 
hut  a  very  small  body,  said.  Thou  art  voice  and  nothing 
else.  Another  Spartan,  seeing  Diogenes  the  Cynic  in  very 
cold  weather  embrace  a  brazen  statue,  asked  whether  he 
was  not  very  cold  ;  and  he  replying.  No,  he  rejoined.  What 
great  matter  then  is  it  that  you  do  ?  A  Metapontine,  being 
jeered  by  a  Spartan  for  cowardice,  replied.  Nay,  sir,  we  are 
masters  of  some  of  the  territories  of  other  states  ;  Then,  said 
the  Spartan,  you  are  not  only  cowards  but  unjust.  A  travel¬ 
ler  at  Sparta,  standing  long  upon  one  leg,  said  to  a  Lacedae¬ 
monian,  I  do  not  believe  you  can  do  as  much ;  True,  said 
he,  but  every  goose  can.  To  one  valuing  himself  upon 
his  skill  in  oratory  a  Spartan  said.  By  heaven,  there  never 


LACONIC  APOPHTHEGMS. 


477 


was  and  never  can  be  any  art  without  truth.  An  Argive 
saying,  We  have  the  tombs  of  many  Spartans  amongst  us ; 
a  Spartan  replied,  But  we  cannot  show  the  grave  of  one 
Argive ;  meaning  that  they  had  often  invaded  Argos,  but 
the  Argives  never  Sparta.  A  Spartan  that  was  taken  cap¬ 
tive  and  to  be  sold,  —  wdien  the  crier  said,  Here’s  a  Spartan 
to  be  sold,  —  stopped  his  mouth,  saying.  Cry  a  captive.  One 
of  the  soldiers  of  Lysimachus,  being  asked  by  him  whether 
he  was  a  true  Spartan  or  one  of  the  Helot  slaves,  replied, 
Do  you  imagine  a  Lacedaemonian  would  serve  you  for  a 
groat  a  day  ^  The  Thebans,  having  beaten  the  Lacedae¬ 
monians  at  Leuctra,  marched  to  the  river  Eiirotas  itself, 
where  one  of  them  boasting  said.  Where  are  the  Spartans 
now]  To  whom  a  captive  replied.  They  are  not  at  hand, 
sir,  for  if  they  had  been,  you  had  not  come  so  far.  The 
Athenians,  having  surrendered  their  own  city  to  the  Spar¬ 
tans,  requested  that  they  might  be  permitted  to  enjoy  Samos 
only ;  upon  which  the  Spartans  said.  When  you  are  not  at 
your  own  disposal,  would  you  be  lords  of  others  ?  And 
hence  came  that  proverb.  He  that  is  not  master  of  himself 
begs  Samos. 

When  the  Lacedaemonians  had  taken  a  town  by  storm, 
the  Ephors  said.  The  exercise  of  our  youth  is  lost,  for  now 
they  will  have  none  to  contend  with  them.  The  Persian 
offering  to  raze  a  city  that  had  frequent  quarrels  and  skir¬ 
mishes  with  the  Spartans,  they  desired  him  to  forbear  and 
not  take  away  the  whetstone  of  their  youth.  They  ap¬ 
pointed  no  masters  to  instruct  their  boys  in  wrestling,  that 
they  might  contend  not  in  sleights  of  art  and  little  tricks, 
but  in  strength  and  courage ;  and  therefore  Lysander, 
being  asked  by  what  means  Charon  was  too  hard  for  him, 
replied.  By  sleights  and  cunning.  When  Philip,  having 
entered  their  territories,  sent  to  know  whether  he  should 
come  as  an  enemy  or  a  friend,  the  Spartans  returned. 
Neither.  Hearing  that  the  ambassador  they  had  sent  to 


478 


LACONIC  APOPHTHEGMS. 


Antigonus  the  son  of  Demetrius  had  called  him  king,  they 
fined  him,  though  he  had  obtained  of  him  in  a  time  of 
scarcity  a  hushel  of  wheat  for  every  person  in  the  city.  A 
vicious  person  giving  excellent  good  counsel,  they  received 
it,  but  took  it  from  him  and  attributed  it  to  another,  a  man 
regular  and  of  a  good  life.  When  some  brothers  differed, 
they  fined  the  father  for  neglecting  his  sons  and  suffering 
them  to  be  at  strife.  They  fined  likeAvise  a  musician  that 
came  amongst  them,  for  playing  the  harp  with  his  fingers. 
Two  boys  fighting,  one  wounded  the  other  mortally  with  a 
hook.  And  when  his  acquaintance,  just  as  he  was  dying, 
vowed  to  revenge  his  death  and  have  the  blood  of  him  that 
killed  him ;  By  no  means,  saith  he,  it  is  unjust,  for  I  had 
done  the  same  thing  if  I  had  been  stout  and  more  speedy 
in  my  stroke.  Another  hoy,  at  the  time  when  freemen’s 
sons  are  allowed  to  steal  what  they  can  and  it  is  a  disgrace 
to  be  discovered,  when  some  of  his  companions  had  stolen 
a  young  fox  and  delivered  it  to  him,  and  the  owners  came 
to  search,  hid  it  under  his  gown ;  and  though  the  angry 
little  beast  bit  through  his  side  to  his  very  guts,  he  en¬ 
dured  it  quietly,  that  he  might  not  be  discovered.  When 
the  searchers  were  gone  and  the  hoys,  saw  what  had  hap¬ 
pened,  they  chid  him  roundly,  saying.  It  had  been  better  to 
produce  the  fox,  than  thus  to  conceal  him  by  losing  your 
own  life  ;  No,  no !  he  replied,  it  is  much  better  to  die  in¬ 
torments,  than  to  let  my  softness  betray  me  and  suffer  a 
life  that  had  been  scandalous.  Some  meeting  certain 
Spartans  upon  the  road  said.  Sirs,  you  have  good  luck,  for 
the  robbers  are  just  gone.  Faith,  they  replied,  they  have 
good  luck  that  they  did  not  meet  with  us.  A  Lacedae¬ 
monian,  being  asked  what  he  knew,  answered.  To  be  free. 
A  Spartan  boy,  being  taken  by  x\ntigonus  and  sold,  obeyed 
his  master  readily  in  every  thing’  that  he  thought  not  below 
a  freeman  to  do ;  but  when  he  was  commanded  to  bring  a 
chamber-pot,  unable  to  contain  he  said,  I  will  not  serve ; 


LACONIC  APOPHTHEGMS. 


479 


but  his  master  pressing  him,  he  ran  to  the  top  of  the 
house,  and  saying,  You  shall  find  what  you  have  bought, 
threw  himself  down  headlong  and  died.  Another  being  to 
be  sold,  when  the  chapman  asked  him,  Wilt  thou  be  tow- 
ardly  if  1  buy  thee]  Yes,  he  returned,  and  if  you  do  not 
buy  me.  Another  captive,  when  the  crier  said,  Here’s  a 
slave  to  be  sold,  cried  out,  A'ou  villain,  why  not  a  captive  ? 
A  Spartan,  who  had  a  fly  engraven  on  his  shield  no  bigger 
than  Nature  hath  made  that  creature,  when  some  jeered 
him  as  if  he  did  it  on  purpose  that  he  might  not  be  taken 
notice  of,  replied :  It  is  that  I  may  be  known ;  for  I  ad¬ 
vance  so  near  my  enemies  that  they  can  well  perceive  my 
impress,  as  little  as  it  is.  Another,  when  at  an  entertain¬ 
ment  a  harp  was  brought  in,  said.  It  is  not  the  custom  of 
the  Spartans  to  play  the  fool.  A  Spartan  being  asked 
whether  the  way  to  Sparta  was  safe  or  not,  replied:  That 
is  according  as  you  go  down  thither  ;  for  lions  that  ap¬ 
proach  rue  their  coming,  and  hares  we  hunt  in  their  very 
coverts.  A  Spartan  WTestling,  when  he  could  not  make 
his  adversary  that  had  got  the  upper  hand  of  him  loose  his 
hold,  and  was  unable  to  avoid  the  fall,  bit  him  by  the  arm ; 
and  the  other  saying,  Spartan,  thou  bitest  like  a  woman ; 
No,  said  he,  but  like  a  lion.  A  lame  man,  marching  out 
to  war  and  being  laughed  at,  said.  There  is  no  need  of 
those  that  can  run  away,  but  of  those  that  can  stand  to  it 
and  defend  their  post.  Another  being  shot  through  said 
with  his  last  breath  :  It  doth  not  trouble  me  that  I  die,  but 
that  I  should  be  killed  by  a  woman  before  I  had  performed 
some  notable  exploit.  One  coming  into  an  inn  and  giving 
the  host  a  piece  of  meat  to  make  ready  for  him,  —  when 
the  host  demanded  some  cheese  and  oil  besides,  —  What ! 
says  the  Spartan,  if  I  had  cheese  should  I  want  meat] 
When  one  called  Lampis  of  Aegina  happy,  because  he 
seemed  a  rich  man,  having  many  ships  of  his  own  at  sea, 
a  Spartan  said,  I  do  not  like  that  happiness  that  hangs  by 


480  LACONIC  APOPHTHEGMS. 

.  \ 

a  cord.  One  telling  a  Spartan  that  he  lied,  the  Spartan 
returned  :  True,  for  we  are  free  ;  but  others,  unless  they 
speak  truth,  will  suffer  for  it.  When  one  had  undertaken 
to  make  a  carcass  stand  upright,  and  tried  every  way  to  no 
purpose  ;  Faith,  said  he,  there  wants  something  within. 
Tynnichus  bore  his  son  Thrasybulus’s  death  very  patiently, 
and  there  is  this  epigram  made  upon  him :  — 

Stout  Thrasjbulus  on  his  shield  was  brought 
From  bloody  fields,  where  he  had  bravely  fought ; 

The  Argives  beat,  and  as  he  stoutly  prest, 

Seven  spears,  and  Death  attending,  pierced  his  breast. 

The  father  took  the  corpse,  and  as  he  bled. 

He  laid  it  on  the  funeral  pile,  and  said  : 

Be  cowards  mourned.  I’ll  spend  no  tear  nor  groan. 

Whilst  thus  I  burn  a  Spartan  and  my  son. 

The  keeper  of  the  bath  allowing  more  water  than  ordinary 
to  Alcibiades  the  Athenian,  a  Spartan  said.  What !  is  he 
more  foul,  that  he  wants  more  than  others  ?  Philip  mak¬ 
ing  an  inroad  upon  Sparta,  and  all  the  Spartans  expecting 
to  be  cut  off,  he  said  to  one  of  them.  Now  what  will  you 
Spartans  do  ]  And  he  replied  :  What,  but  to  die  bravely  ? 
for  only  we  of  all  the  Greeks  have  learned  to  be  free  and 
not  endure  a  yoke.  When  Agis  was  beaten  and  Antipater 
demanded  fifty  boys  for  hostages,  Eteocles,  one  of  the  then 
Ephors,  answered :  Boys  we  will  not  give,  lest  swerving 
from  the  customs  of  their  country  they  prove  slothful  and 
untoward,  and  so  incapable  of  the  privilege  of  citizens ; 
but  of  women  and  old  men  you  shall  have  twice  as  many. 
And  when  upon  refusal  he  threatened  some  sharp  afflic¬ 
tions,  he  returned :  If  you  lay  upon  us  somewhat  worse 
than  death,  we  shall  die  the  more  readily.  An  old  man 
in  the  Olympic  games  being  desirous  to  see  the  sport,  and 
unprovided  of  a  seat,  went  about  from  place  to  place,  was 
laughed  and  jeered  at,  but  none  offered  him  the  civility  ; 
but  when  he  came  to  the  Spartans’  quarter,  all  the  boys 
and  some  of  the  men  rose  from  their  seats,  and  made  him 
room.  At  this,  all  the  Greeks  clapped  and  praised  their 


LACONIC  APOPHTHEGMS. 


481 


behavior  ;  upon  which  the  good  old  man  shaking  his  hoary 
hairs,  with  tears  in  his  eyes,  said:  Good  God!  how  well 
all  the  Greeks  know  what  is  good,  and  yet  only  the  Lace¬ 
daemonians  practise  it !  And  some  say  the  same  thing  was 
done  at  Athens.  For  at  the  ^reat  solemnity  of  the  Athe- 
nians,  the  Panathenaic  festival,  the  Attics  abused  an  old 
man,  calling  him  as  if  they  designed  to  make  room  for 
him,  and  when  he  came  putting  him  off  again ;  and  when 
after  this  manner  he  had  passed  through  almost  all,  he 
came  to  that  quarter  where  the  Spartan  spectators  sat,  and 
all  of  them  preserily  rose  up  and  gave  him  place;  the 
whole  multitude,  extremely  taken  with  this  action,  clapped 
and  shouted ;  upon  which  one  of  the  Spartans  said :  By 
Heaven,  these  Athenians  know  what  should  be  done,  but 
are  not  much  for  doing  it.  A  beggar  asking  an  alms  of  a 
Lacedaemonian,  he  said :  Well,  should  I  give  thee  any 
thing,  thou  wilt  be  the  greater  beggar,  for  he  that  first  gave 
thee  money  made  thee  idle,  and  is  the  cause  of  this  base 
and  dishonorable  way  of  living.  Another  Spartan,  seeing 
a  fellow  gathering  charity  for  the  Gods’  sake,  said,  I  will 
never  regard  those  as  Gods  that  are  poorer  than  myself. 
Another,  having  taken  one  in  adultery  with  an  ugly  whore, 
cried  out.  Poor  man,  how  great  was  thy  necessity  I  Another, 
hearing  an  orator  very  lofty  and  swelling  in  his  speech, 
said,  Faith,  this  is  a  brave  man,  how  excellently  he  rolls 
his  tongue  about  nothing !  A  stranger  being  at  Sparta,  and 
observing  how  much  the  young  men  reverenced  the  old, 
said,  At  Sparta  alone  it  is  desirable  to  be  old.  A  Lacedae¬ 
monian,  being  asked  what  manner  of  poet  Tyrtaeus  was, 
replied.  Excellent  to  whet  the  courage  of  our  youth. 
Another  that  had  very  sore  eyes  listed  himself  a  soldier ; 
when  some  said  to  him.  Poor  man,  whither  in  that  con¬ 
dition,  and  what  wilt  thou  do  in  a  fight  ]  He  returned.  If 
I  can  do  nothing  else,  I  shall  blunt  the  enemies’  sword. 
Buris  and  Spertis,  two  Lacedaemonians,  going  volifntarily 


482 


LACONIC  APOPHTHEGMS. 


to  Xerxes  the  Persian  to  suffer  that  punishment  which  the 
oracle  had  adjudged  due  to  Sparta  for  killing  those  ambas¬ 
sadors  the  King  had  sent,  as  soon  as  they  came  desired 
Xerxes  to  put  them  to  death  as  he  pleased,  that  they 
might  make  satisfaction  for  the  Spartans.  But  he,  sur¬ 
prised  at  this  gallantry,  forgave  the  men  and  desired  their 
service  in  his  court ;  to  which  they  replied,  How  can  we 
stay  here,  and  leave  our  country,  our  laws,  and  those,  men 
for  whom  we  came  so  far  to  die  ?  Indarnes  the  general 
pressing  them  to  make  peace,  and  promising  them  equal 
honors  with  the  King’s  greatest  favorites,  they  returned.  Sir, 
you  seem  to  be  ignorant  of  the  value  of  liberty,  which  no 
man  in  his  wits  would  change  for  the  Persian  empire.  A 
Spartan  in  a  journey,  when  a  friend  of  his  had  purposely 
avoided  him  the  day  before,  and  the  next  day,  having  ob¬ 
tained  very  rich  furniture,  splendidly  received  him,  trampled 
on  his  tapestry  saying.  This  was  the  cause  why  I  had  not 
so  much  as  a  mat  to  sleep  upon  last  night.  Another  com¬ 
ing  to  Athens,  and  seeing  the  Athenians  crying  salt-fish  and 
dainties  to  sell  up  and  down  the  streets,  others  gathering 
taxes,  keeping  stews,  and  busied  about  a  thousand  such 
dishonest  trades,  and  looking  on  nothing  as  base  and  unbe¬ 
coming  ;  after  his  return,  when  his  acquaintance  enquired 
how  things  were  at  Athens,  he  replied.  All  well ;  inti¬ 
mating  by  this  irony  that  all  things  there  were  esteemed 
good  and  commendable,  and  nothing  base.  Another,  bein^ 
questioned  about  something,  denied  it ;  and  the  enquirer 
rejoining.  Thou  liest,  he  replied:  And  art  not  thou  a  fool 
to  ask  me  what  you  know  yourself  very  well  ]  Some 
Lacedaemonians  being  sent  ambassadors  to  the  tyrant 
Ly  gdamis,  pretending  sickness  he  deferred  their  audience 
a  long  time.  They  said  to  one  of  his  officers.  Pray,  sir, 
assure  him  that  we  did  not  come  to  wrestle  but  to  treat 
with  him.  A  priest  initiating  a  Spartan  in  holy  mysteries 
asked  Iiim  what  was  the  greatest  wickedness  he  was  ever 


LACONIC  APOPHTHEGMS. 


483 


guilty  of.  And  he  replying,  The  Gods  know  very  well, 
and  the  priest  pressing  him  the  more  and  saying  he  must 
needs  discover,  the  Spartan  asked.  To  whom  1  to  thee  or 
the  God  ?  And  the  priest  saying.  To  the  God,  he  rejoined. 

Then  do  you  withdraw.  Another  at  night  passing  by  a 
tomb  and  imagining  he  saw  a  ghost,  made  towards  it  with 
his  spear,  and  striking  it  through  cried  out.  Whither  dost 
thou  fly,  poor  twice  dead  ghost  ]  Another  having  vowed 
to  throw  himself  headlong  from  the  Leucadian  rock,  when 
he  came  to  the  top  and  saw  the  vast  precipice,  he  went 
down  again  ;  upon  which  being  jeered  by  an  acquaintance, 
he  said,  I  did  not  imagine  that  one  vow  needed  another 
that  was  greater.  Another  in  a  battle  had  his  sword  lifted 
up  to  kill  his  enemy,  but  the  retreat  being  sounded,  he  did 
not  let  the  blow  fall ;  and  when  one  asked  him  why,  when 
his  enemy  was  at  his  mercy,  he  did  not  use  the  advantage, 
Because,  said  he,  it  is  better  to  obey  my  leader  than  kill  ^ 
my  enemy.  One  saying  to  a  Spartan  that  was  worsted  in 
the  Olympic  games,  Spartan,  thy  adversary  was  the  better 
man ;  No,  he  replied,  but  the  better  tripper. 


I 


I 


f 


THE  APOPHTHEGMS  OR  REMARKABLE  SAYINGS  OF 
KINGS  AND  GREAT  COMMANDERS. 


PLUTARCH  TO  TRAJA]^^  THE  EMPEROR  WISHETH  PROSPERITY. 

i  < 

Artaxerxes,  King  of  Persia.  O  Caesar  Trajan,  greatest  j 
of  princes,  esteemed  it  no  less  royal  and  bountiful  kindly  ! 
and  cheerfully  to  accept  small,  than  to  make  great  presents  ; 
and  when  he  was  in  a  progress,  and  a  common  country 
laborer,  having  nothing  else,  took  up  water  with  both  his 
hands  out  of  the  river  and  presented  it  to  him,  he  smiled 
and  received  it  pleasantly,  measuring  the  kindness  not  by 
the  value  of  the  gift,  but  by  the  affection  of  the  giver. 
And  Lycurgus  ordained  in  Sparta  very  cheap  sacrifices, 
that  they  might  always  worship  the  Gods  readily  and 
easily  with  such  things  as  were  at  hand.  Upon  the  same 
account,  when  I  bring  a  mean  and  slender  present  of  the 
common  first-fruits  of  philosophy,  accept  also  (I  beseech 
you)  with  my  good  affection  these  short  memorials,  if  they 
may  contribute  any  thing  to  the  knowledge  of  the  manners 
and  dispositions  of  great  men,  which  are  more  apparent  in 
their  words  than  in  their  actions.  My  former  treatise  con¬ 
tains  the  lives  of  the  most  eminent  princes,  lawgivers,  and 
generals,  both  Romans  and  Grecians  ;  but  most  of  their 
actions  admit  a  mixture  of  fortune,  whereas  such  speeches 
and  answers  as  happened  amidst  their  employments,  pas¬ 
sions,  and  events  afford  us  (as  in  a  looking-glass)  a  clear 
discovery  of  each  particular  temper  and  disposition.  Ac-  ; 
cordingly  Siramnes  the  Persian,  to  such  as  wondered  that 


i 


THE  APOPHTHEGMS  OP  KINGS 


485 


he  usually  spoke  like  a  wise  man  and  yet  was  unsuccessful 
in  his  designs,  replied  :  I  myself  am  master  of  my  words, 
but  the  king  and  fortune  have  power  over  my  actions. 
In  the  former  treatise  speeches  and  actions  are  mingled 
together,  and  require  a  reader  that  is  at  leisure ;  but  in  this 
the  speeches,  being  as  it  were  the  seeds  and  the  illustrations 
of  those  lives,  are  placed  by  themselves,  and  will  not  (I 
think)  be  tedious  to  you,  since  they  will  give  you  in  a  few 
words  a  review  of  many  memorable  persons. 

Cyrus.  The  Persians  affect  such  as  are  hawk-nosed 
and  think  them  most  beautiful,  because  Cyrus,  the  most 
beloved  of  their  kings,  had  a  nose  of  that  shape.  Cyrus 
said  that  those  that  would  not  do  good  for  themselves 
ought  to  be  compelled  to  do  good  for  others  ;  and  that  no¬ 
body  o*ught  to  govern,  unless  he  was  better  than  those  he 
governed.  When  the  Persians  Avere  desirous  to  exchange 
their  hills  and  rocks  for  a  plain  and  soft  country,  he  Avould 
not  suffer  them,  saying  that  both  the  seeds  of  plants  and  the 
lives  of  men  resemble  the  soil  they  inhabit. 

Darius.  Darius  the  father  of  Xerxes  used  to  praise 
himself,  saying  that  he  became  even  wiser  in  battles  and 
dangers.  When  he  laid  a  tax  upon  his  subjects,  he  sum¬ 
moned  his  lieutenants,  and  asked  them  whether  the  tax 
was  burthensome  or  notl  When  they  told  him  it  was 
'  moderate,  he  commanded  them  to  pay  half  as  much  as  was 
at  first  demanded.  As  he  Avas  opening  a  pomegranate, 
one  asked  him  Avhat  it  Avas  of  Avhich  he  would  Avish  for 
a  number  equal  to  the  seeds  thereof.  He  said,  Of  men 
like  Zopyrus,  —  Avho  was  a  loyal  person  and  his  friend. 
This  Zopyrns,  after  he  had  maimed  himself  by  cutting  off 
his  nose  and  ears,  beguiled  the  Babylonians  ;  and  being 
trusted  by  them,  he  betrayed  the  city  to  Darius,  AAdio  often 
said  that  he  Avould  not  have  had  Zopyrus  maimed  to  gain 
a  hundred  Babylons. 

Semiramis.  Semhamis  built  a  monument  for  herself,  Avith 


486 


AND  GREAT  COMMANDERS. 


this  inscription  :  Whatever  king  wants  treasure,  if  he  open 
this  tomb,  he  may  be  satisfied.  Darius  therefore  opening  it 
found  no  treasure,  but  another  inscription  of  this  import : 
If  thou  wert  not  a  wicked  person  and  of  insatiable  covetous¬ 
ness,  thou  wouldst  not  disturb  the  mansions  of  the  dead. 

Xerxes.  Arimenes  came  out  of  Bactria  as  a  rival  for 
the  kingdom  with  his  brother  Xerxes,  the  son  of  Darius. 
Xerxes  sent  presents  to  him,  commanding  those  that 
brought  them  to  say :  With  these  your  brother  Xerxes  now 
honors  you  ;  and  if  he  chance  to  be  proclaimed  king,  you 
shall  be  the  next  person  to  himself  in  the  kingdom.  When 
Xerxes  was  declared  king,  Arimenes  immediately  did  him 
homage  and  placed  the  crown  upon  his  head ;  and  Xerxes 
gave  him  the  next  place  to  himself.  Being  offended* with 
the  Babylonians,  who  rebelled,  and  having  overcome 
them,  he  forbade  them  weapons,  but  commanded  they 
should  practise  singing  and  playing  on  the  flute,  keep 
brothel-houses  and  taverns,  and  wear  loose  coats.  He 
refused  to  eat  Attic  figs  that  were  brought  to  be  sold,  until 
he  had  conquered  the  country  that  produced  them.  When 
he  caught-  some  Grecian  scouts  in  his  camp,  he  did  them 
no  harm,  but  having  allowed  them  to  view  his  army  as 
much  as  they  pleased,  he  let  them  go. 

Artaxerxes.  Artaxerxes,  the  son  of  Xerxes,  surnamed 
Longimanus  (or  Long-hand^  because  he  had  one  hand 
longer  than  the  other,  said,  it  was  more  princely  to  add 
than  to  take  away.  He  first  gave  leave  to  those  that 
hunted  with  him,  if  they  would  and  saw  occasion,  to  throw 
their  darts  before  him.  He  also  first  ordained  that  punish¬ 
ment  for  his  nobles  who  had  offended,  that  they  should  be 
stripped  and  their  garments  scourged  instead  of  their  bodies  ; 
and  whereas  their  hair  should  have  been  plucked  out,  that 
the  same  should  be  done  to  their  turbans.  When  Satibar- 
zanes,  his  chamberlain,  petitioned  him  in  an  unjust  matter, 
and  he  understood  he  did  it  to  gain  thirty  thousand  pieces 


THE  APOPHTHEGMS  OF  KINGS 


487 


of  money,  he  ordered  his  treasurer  to  bring  the  said  sum, 
and  gave  them  to  him,  saying :  O  Satibarzanes !  take  it ; 
for  when  I  have  given  you  this,  I  shall  not  be  poorer,  but  I 
had  been  more  unjust  if  I  had  granted  your  petition. 

Cyrus  the  Younger.  Cyrus  the  Younger,  when  he  was 
exhorting  the  Lacedaemonians  to  side  with  him  in’ the  war, 
said  that  he  had  a  stronger  heart  than  his  brother,  and 
could  drink  more  wine  unmixed  than  he,  and  bear  it  better  ; 
that  his  brother,  when  he  hunted,  could  scarce  sit  his 
horse,  or  when  ill  news  arrived,  his  throne.  He  exhorted 
them  to  send  him  men,  promising  he  would  give  horses 
to  footmen,  chariots  to  horsemen,  villages  to  those  that 
had  farms,  and  those  that  possessed  villages  he  would  make 
lords  of  cities  ;  and  that  he  would  give  them  gold  and 
silver,  not  by  tale  but  by  weight. 

Artaxerxes  Mnemon.  Artaxerxes,  the  brother  of  Cyrus 
the  Younger,  called  Mnemon,  did  not  only  give  very  free^ 
and  patient  access  to  any  that  would  speak  with  him,  but 
commanded  the  queen  his  wife  to  draw  the  curtains  of  her 
chariot,  that  petitioners  might  have  the  same  access  to  her 
also.  When  a  poor  man  presented  him  with  a  very  fair 
and  great  apple.  By  the  Sun,  said  he,  ’tis  my  opinion,  if  this 
person  were  entrusted  with  a  small  city,  he  would  make  it 
great.  In  his  flight,  when  his  carriages  were  plundered, 
and  he  was  forced  to  eat  dry  figs  and  barley-bread.  Of  how 
great  pleasure,  said  he,  have  I  hitherto  lived  ignorant ! 

Parysatis.  Parysatis,  the  mother  of  Cyrus  and  Arta¬ 
xerxes,  advised  him  that  would  discourse  freely  with  the 
king,  to  use  words  of  fine  linen. 

Orontes.  Orontes,  the  son-in-law  of  King  Artaxerxes, 
falling  into  disgrace  and  being  condemned,  said :  As  arith¬ 
meticians  count  sometimes  myriads  on  their  fingers,  some¬ 
times  units  only ;  in  like  manner  the  favorites  of  kings 
sometimes  can  do  every  thing  with  them,  sometimes  little 
or  nothing. 


488 


AND  GREAT 'COMMANDERS. 


Memnon.  Memnon,  one  of  King  Darius’s  generals  against ' 
Alexander,  when  a  mercenary  soldier  excessively  and  im¬ 
pudently  reviled  Alexander,  struck  him  with  his  spear, 
adding,  I  pay  you  to  fight  against  Alexander,  not  to  re¬ 
proach  him. 

Egyptian  Kings.  The  Egyptian  kings,  according  unto 
their  law,  used  to  swear  their  judges  that  they  should  not 
obey  the  king  when  he  commanded  them  to  give  an  unjust 
sentence. 

PoLTYs.  Poltys  king  of  Thrace,  in  the  Trojan  war, 
being  solicited  both  by  the  Trojan  and  Grecian  ambassa¬ 
dors,  advised  Alexander  to  restore  Helen,  promising  to  give 
him  two  beautiful  women  for  her. 

Teres.  Teres,  the  father  of  Sitalces,  said,  when  he  was 
out  of  the  army  and  had  nothing  to  do,  he  thought  there 
was  no  difference  between  him  and  his  grooms. 

CoTYS.  Cotys,  when  one  gave  him  a  leopard,  gave  him 
a  lion  for  it.  •  He  was  naturally  prone  to  anger,  and  severe¬ 
ly  punished  the  miscarriages  of  his  servants.  When  a 
stranger  brought  him  some  earthen  vessels,  thin  and  brittle, 
but  delicately  shaped  and  admirably  adorned  with  sculp¬ 
tures,  he  requited  the  stranger  for  them,  and  then  brake 
them  all  in  pieces.  Lest  (said  he)  my  passion  should  pro¬ 
voke  me  to  punish  excessively  those  that  brake  them. 

Idathyrsus.  Idathyrsus,  King  of  Scythia,  when  Darius 
invaded _  him,  solicited  the  Ionian  tyrants  that  they  would 
assert  their  liberty  by  breaking  down  the  bridge  that  was 
made  over  the  Danube  :  which  they  refusing  to  do  because 
they  had  sworn  fealty  to  Darius,  he  called  them  good, 
honest,  lazy  slaves. 

Ateas.  Ateas  wrote  to  Philip :  You  reign  over  the  Ma¬ 
cedonians,  men  that  have  learned  fighting  ;  and  I  over  the 
Scythians,  which  can  fight  with  hunger  and  thirst.  As  he 
was  rubbing  his  horse,  turning  to  the  ambassadors  of  Philip, 
be  asked  whether  Philip  did  so  or  not.  He  took  prisoner 


THE  APOPHTHEGMS  OF  KINGS 


489 


Ismenias,  an  excellent  piper,  and  commanded  him  to  play ; 
and  when  others  admired  him,  he  swore  it  was  more  pleas¬ 
ant  to  hear  a  horse  neigh. 

SciLURUs.  Scilurus  on  his  death-bed,  being  about  to 
leave  fourscore  sons  surviving,  offered  a  bundle  of  darts  to 
each  of  them,  and  bade  them  break  them.  When  all  refused, 
drawing  out  one  by  one,  he  easily  broke  them  ;  thus  teach¬ 
ing  them  that,  if  they  held  together,  they  would  continue 
strong,  but  if  they  fell  out  and  were  divided,  they  would 
become  weak. 

Gelo.  Gelo  the  tyrant,  after  he  had  overcome  the  Car¬ 
thaginians  at  Himera,  made  peace  with  them,  and  among 
other  articles  compelled  them  to  subscribe  this,  —  that  they 
should  no  more  sacrifice  their  children  to  Saturn.  He 
often  marched  the  Syracusans  out  to  plant  their  fields,  as 
if  it  had  been  to  war,  that  the  country  might  be  improved 
by  husbandry,  and  they  might  not  be  corrupted  by  idleness. 
When  he  demanded  a  sum  of  money  of  the  citizens,  and 
thereupon  a  tumult  was  raised,  he  told  them  he  would  but 
borrow  it ;  and  after  the  war  was  ended,  he  restored  it  to 
them  again.  At  a  feast,  when  a  harp  was  offered,  and 
others  one  after  another  tuned  it  and  played  upon  it,  he 
sent  for  his  horse,"  and  with  an  easy  agility  leaped  upon 
him. 

Hiero.  Hiero,  who  succeeded  Gelo  in  the  tyranny,  said 
he  was  not  disturbed  by  any  that  freely  spoke  against  him. 
He  judged  that  those  that  revealed  a  secret  did  an  injury 
to  those  to  whom  they  revealed  it ;  for  we  hate  not  only 
those  who  tell,  but  them  also  that  hear  what  we  would  not 
have  disclosed.  One  upbraided  him  with  his  stinking 
breath,  and  he  blamed  his  wife  that  never  told  him  of  it ; 
but  she  said,  I  thought  all  men  smelt  so.  To  Xenophanes 
the  Colophonian,  who  said  he  had  much  ado  to  maintain 
two  servants,  he  replied  :  But  Homer,  whom  you  disparage, 
maintains  above  ten  thousand,  although  he  is  dead.  He 


490 


AND  GREAT  COMMANDERS. 


fined  Epicharmus  the  comedian,  for  speaking  unseemly 
when  his  wife  was  by. 

D  lONYSius.  Dionysius  the  Elder,  when  the  public  ora¬ 
tors  cast  lots  to  know  in  what  order  they  should  speak, 
drew  as  his  lot  the  letter  M.  And  when  one  said  to  him, 
MmnoXoysig^  You  will  make  a  foolish'  speech,  O  Dionysius, 
You  are  mistaken,  said  he,  MovaQxriaco,  I  shall  be  a  monarch. 
And  as  soon  as  his  speech  was  ended,  the  Syracusans  chose 
him  general.  In  the  beginning  of  his  tyranny,  the  citizens 
rebelled  and  besieged  him ;  and  his  friends  advised  him  to 
resign  the  government,  rather  than  to  be  taken  and  slain 
by  them.  But  he,  seeing  a  cook  butcher  an  ox  and  the  ox 
immediately  fall  down  dead,  said  to  his  friends :  Is  it  not 
a  hateful  thing,  that  for  fear  of  so  short  a  death  we  should 
resign  so  great  a  government  ]  When  his  son,  whom  he 
intended  to  make  his  successor  in  the  government,  had 
been  detected  in  debauching  a  freeman’s  wife,  he  asked 
him  in  anger.  When  did  you  ever  know  me  guilty  of  such 
a  crime  1  But  you,  sir,  replied  the  son,  had  not  a  tyrant 
for  your  father.  Nor  will  you,  said  he,  have  a  tyrant  for 
your  son,  unless  you  mend  your  manners.  And  another 
time,  going  into  his  son’s  house  and  seeing  there  abundance 
of  silver  and  gold  plate,  he  cried  out :  Thou  art  not  capa¬ 
ble  of  being  a  tyrant,  who  hast  made  never  a  friend  with 
all  the  plate  I  have  given  thee.  When  he  exacted  money 
of  the  Syracusans,  and  they  lamenting  and  beseeching  him 
pretended  they  had  none,  he  still  exacted  more,  twice  or 
thrice  renewing  his  demands,  until  he  heard  them  laugh 
and  jeer  at  him  as  they  went  to  and  fro  in  the  market-place, 
and  then  he  gave  over.  Now,  said  he,  since  they  contemn 
me,  it  is  a  sign  they  have  nothing  left.  When  his  mother, 
being  ancient,  requested  him  to  find  a  husband  for  her,  I 
can,  said  he,  overpower  the  laws  of  the  city,  but  I  cannot 
force  the  laws  of  Nature.  Although  he  punished  other 
nialefactors  severely,  he  favored  such  as  stole  clothes,  that 


THE  APOPHTHEGMS  OF  KINGS 


491 


the  Syracusans  might  forbear  feasting  and  drunken  clubs. 
A  certain  person  told  him  privately,  he  could  show  him  a 
way  how  he  might  know  beforehand  such  as  conspired 
against  him.  Let  us  know,  said  he,  going  aside.  Give 
me,  said  the  person,  a  talent,  that  everybody  may  believe 
that  I  have  taught  you  the  signs  and  tokens  of  plotters ; 
and  he  gave  it  him,  pretending  he  had  learned  them,  much 
admiring  the  subtilty  of  the  man.  Being  asked  whether 
he  was  at  leisure,  he  replied :  God  forbid  that  it  should 
ever  befall  me.  Hearing  that  two  young  men  very  much 
reviled  him  and  his  tyranny  in  their  cups,  he  invited  both 
of  them  to  supper ;  and  perceiving  that  one  of  them  prat¬ 
tled  freely  and  foolishly,  but  the  other  drank  warily  and 
sparing,  he  dismissed  the  first  as  a  drunken  fellow  whose 
treason  lay  no  deeper  than  his  wine,  and  put  the  other  to 
death  as  a  disaffected  and  resolved  traitor.  Some  blaming 
him  for  rewarding  and  preferring  a  wicked  man,  and  one 
hated  by  the  citizens ;  I  would  have,  said  he,  somebody 
hated  more  than  myself.  When  he  gave  presents  to  the 
ambassadors  of  Corinth,  and  they  refused  them  because 
their  law  forbade  them  to  receive  gifts  from  a  prince  to 
whom  they  were  sent  in  embassy,  he  said  they  did  very  ill 
to  destroy  the  only  advantage  of  tyranny,  and  to  declare 
that  it  was  dangerous  to  receive  a  kindness  from  a  tyrant. 
Hearing  that  a  citizen  had  buried  a  quantity  of  gold  in  his 
house,  he  sent  for  it ;  and  when  the  party  removed  to  an¬ 
other  city,  and  bought  a  farm  with  part  of  his  treasure 
which  he  had  concealed,  Dionysius  sent  for  him  and  bade 
him  take  back  the  rest,  since  he  had  now  begun  to  use  his 
money,  and  was  no  longer  making  a  useful  thing  useless. 

Dionysius  the  Younger  said  that  he  maintained  many 
Sophists ;  not  that  he  admired  them,  but  that  he  might  be 
admired  for  their  sake.  When  Polyxenus  the  logician  told 
him  he  had  baffled  him  ;  Yes,  said  he,  in  words,  but  I  have 
caught  you  in  deeds ;  for  you,  leaving  your  own  fortune, . 


492 


AND  GREAT  COMMANDERS. 


attend  me  and  mine.  When  he  was  deposed  from  his  gov¬ 
ernment,  and  one  asked  him  what  he  got  by  Plato  and 
philosophy,  he  answered.  That  I  may  bear  so  great  a 
change  of  fortune  patiently.  Being  asked  bow  it  came  to 
pass  that  his  father,  a  private  and  poor  man,  obtained  the 
government  of  Syracuse,  and  he  already  possessed  of  it, 
and  the  son  of  a  tyrant,  lost  it,  —  My  father,  said  he,  en¬ 
tered  upon  affairs  when  the  democracy  was  hated,  but  I, 
when  tyranny  was  become  odious.  To  another  that  asked 
him  the  same  question,  he  replied :  My  father  bequeathed 
to  me  his  government,  but  not  his  fortune. 

Agathocles  was  the  son  of  a  potter.  When  he  became 
lord  and  was  proclaimed  king  of  Sicily,  he  was  wont  to 
place  earthen  and  golden  vessels  together,  and  show  them 
to  young  men,  telling  them.  Those  I  made  first,  but  now 
I  make  these  by  my  valor  and  industry.  As  he  was  besieg¬ 
ing  a  city,  some  from  the  walls  reviling  him,  saying,  Do 
you  hear,  potter,  where  will  you  have  money  to  pay  your 
soldiers?  —  he  gently  answered.  I’ll  tell  you,  if  I  take  this 
city.  And  having  taken  it  by  storm,  he  sold  the  prisoners, 
telling  them.  If  you  reproach  me  again,  I  will  complain  to 
your  masters.  Some  inhabitants  of  Ithaca  complained  of 
his  mariners,  that  making  a  descent  on  the  island  they  had 
taken  away  some  cattle  ;  But  your  king,  said  he,  came  to 
Sicily,  and  did  not  only  take  away  sheep,  but  put  out  the 
shepherd’s  eyes,  and  went  his  way. 

Dion.  Dion,  that  deposed  Dionysius  from  the  tyranny, 
when  he  heard  Callippus,  whom  of  all  his  friends  and 
attendants  he  trusted  most,  conspired  against  him,  refused 
to  question  him  for  it,  saying :  It  is  better  for  him  to  die 
than  to  live,  who  must  be  weary  not  only  of  his  enemies, 
but  of  his  friends  too. 

Archelaus.  Archelaus,  when  one  of  his  companions 
(and  none  of  the  best)  begged  a  golden  cup  of  him,  bade 
the  boy  give  it  Euripides  ;  and  when  the  man  wondered 


THE  APOPHTHEGMS  OF  KINGS 


493 


at  him,  You,  said  he,  are  worthy  to  ask,  but  he  is  worthy 
to  receive  it  without  asking.  A  prating  barber  asked  him 
how  he  would  be  trimmed.  He  answered.  In  silence. 
When  Euripides  at  a  banquet  embraced  fair  Agatho  and 
kissed  him,  although  he  was  no  longer  beardless,  he  said, 
turning  to  his  friends :  Do  not  wonder  at  it,  for  the  beauty 
of  such  as  are  handsome  lasts  after  autumn. 

Timotheus  the  harper,  receiving  of  him  a  reward  less 
than  his  expectation,  twitted  him  for  it  not  obscurely  ;  and 
once  singing  the  short  verse  of  the  chorus.  You  commend 
earth-born  silver,  directed  it  to  him.  And  Archelaus 
answered  him  again  singing.  But  you  beg  it.  When  one 
sprinkled  water  upon  him,  and  his  friends  would  have  had 
him  punish  the  man.  You  are  mistaken,  said  he,  he  did  not 
sprinkle  me,  but  some  other  person  whom  he  took  me 
to  be. 

Philip.  Theophrastus  tells  us  that  Philip,  the  father  of 
Alexander,  was  not  only  greater  in  his  port  and  success, 
but  also  freer  from  luxury  than  other  kings  of  his  lime. 
He  said  the  Athenians  were  happy,  if  they  could  find  every 
year  ten  fit  to  be  chosen  generals,  since  in  many  years  he 
could  find  but  one  fit  to  be  a  general,  and  that  was 
Parmenio.  When  he  had  news  brought  him  of  divers  and 
eminent  successes  in  one  day,  O  Fortune,  said  he,  for  all 
these  so  great  kindnesses  do  me  some  small  mischief. 
After  he  had  conquered  Greece,  some  advised  him  to  place 
garrisons  in  the  cities.  No,  said  he,  I  had  rather  be  called 
merciful  a  great  while,  than  lord  a  little  while.  His  friends 
advised  him  to  banish  a  railer  his  court.  I  will  not  do  it, 
said  he,  lest  he  should  go  about. and  rail  in  many  places. 
Smicythus  accused  Nicanor  for  one  that  commonly  spoke 
evil  of  King  Philip  ;  and  his  friends  advised  him  to  send  for 
him  and  punish  him.  Truly,  said  he,  Nicanor  is  not  the 
worst  of  the  Macedonians ;  we  ought  therefore  to  consider 
whether  we  have  given  him  any  cause  or  not.  When  he 


494 


A1^D  GREAT  COMMANDERS. 


understood  therefore  that  Nicanor,  being  slighted  by  the 
king,  was  much  afflicted  with  poverty,  he  ordered  a  boon 
should  be  given  him.  And  when  Smicythus  reported  that 
Nicanor  was  continually  abounding  in  the  king’s  praises. 
You  see  then,  said  he,  that  whether  we  will  be  well  or  ill 
spoken  of  is  in  our  own  power.  He  said  he  was  beholden 
to  the  Athenian  orators,  who  by  reproaching  him  made  him 
better  both  in  speech  and  behavior ;  for  I  will  endeavor, 
said  he,  both  by  my  words  and  actions  to  prove  them  liars. 
Such  Athenians  as  he  took  prisoners  in  the  fight  at  Chae- 
ronea  he  dismissed  without  ransom.  When  they  also  de¬ 
manded  their  garments  and  quilts,  and  on  that  account 
accused  the  Macedonians,  Philip  laughed  and  said.  Do  ye 
not  think  these  Athenians  imagine  we  beat  them  at  cockal  ? 
In  a  fight  he  broke  his  collar-bone,  and  the  surgeon  that 
had  him  in  cure  requested  him  daily  for  his  reward.  Take 
what  you  will,  said  he,  for  you  have  the  key.^  There 
were  two  brothers  called  Both  and  Either ;  perceiving 
Either  was  a  good  understanding  busy  fellow  and  Both  a 
silly  fellow  and  good  for  little,  he  said :  Either  is  Both,  and 
Both  is  Neither.  To  some  that  advised  him  to  deal  severely 
with  the  Athenians  he  said  :  You  talk  absurdly,  who  would 
persuade  a  man  that  suffers  all  things  for  the  sake  of  glory, 
to  overthrow  the  theatre  of  glory.  Being  arbitrator  betwixt 
two  wicked  persons,  he  commanded  one  to  fiy  out  of  Mace¬ 
donia  and  the  other  to  pursue  him.  Being  about  to  pitch 
his  camp  in  a  likely  place,  and  hearing  there  was  no  hay 
to  be  had  for  the  cattle.  What  a  life,  said  he,  is  ours,  since 
we  must  live  according  to  the  convenience  of  asses  !  De¬ 
signing  to  take  a  strong  fort,  which  the  scouts  told  him  was 
exceeding  difficult  and  impregnable,  he  asked  whether  it 
was  so  difficult  that  an  ass  could  not  come  at  it  laden  with 
gold.  Lasthenes  the  Olynthian  and  his  friends  being 
aggrieved,  and  complaining  that  some  of  Philip’s  retinue 

*  The  Greek  tOAg  (clavis),  a  key,  signifies  also  the  collar-bone.  (G.) 


THE  APOPHTHEGMS  OF  KINGS 


495 


called  tliem  traitors,  These  Macedonians,  said  he,  are  a  rude 
and  clownish  people,  that  call  a  spade  a  spade.  He  ex¬ 
horted  his  son  to  behave  himself  courteously  toward  the 
Macedonians,  and  to  acquire  influence  with  the  people, 
while  he  could  be  affable  and  gracious  during  the  reign  of 
another.  He  advised  him  also  to  make  friends  of  men 
of  interest  in  the  cities,  both  good  and  bad,  that  afterwards 
he  might  make  use  of  these,  and  suppress  those.  To  Philo 
the  Theban,  who  had  been  his  host  and  given  him  entertain¬ 
ment  while  he  remained  an  hostage  at  Thebes,  and  after¬ 
wards  refused  to  accept  any  present  from  him,  he  said  :  Do 
not  take  from  me  the  title  of  invincible,  by  making  me  inferior 
to  you  in  kindness  and  bounty.  Having  taken  many  prison¬ 
ers,  he  was  selling  them,  sitting  in  an  unseemly  posture,  with 
his  tunic  tucked  up ;  when  one  of  the  captives  to  be  sold 
cried  out,  Spare  me,  Philip,  for  our  fathers  were  friends. 
When  Philip  asked  him.  Prithee,  how  or  from  whence  ? 
Let  me  come  nearer,  said  he,  and  Pll  tell  you.  When  he 
was  come  up  to  him,  he  said :  Let  down  your  cloak  a  little 
lower,  for  you  sit  indecently.  Whereupon  said  Philip  :  Let 
him  go,  in  truth  he  wisheth  me  well  and  is  my  friend,  though 
I  did  not  know  him.  Being  invited  to  supper,  he  carried 
many  he  took  up  by  the  way  along  with  him  ;  and  perceiv-  ‘ 
ing  his  host  troubled  (for  his  provision  was  not  sufficient), 
he  sent  to  each  of  his  friends,  and  bade  them  reserve  a  place 
for  the  cake.  They,  believing  and  expecting  it,  ate  little, 
and  so  the  supper  was  enough  for  all.  It  appeared  he 
grieved  much  at  the  death  of  Hipparchus  the  Euboean. 
For  when  somebody  said  it  was  time  for  him  to  die,  —  For 
himself,  said  he,  but  he  died  too  soon  for  me,  preventing 
me  by  his  death  from  returning  him  the  kindness  his  friend¬ 
ship  deserved.  Hearing  that  Alexander  blamed  him  for 
having  children  by  several  women,  Therefore,  saith  he  to 
him,  since  you  have  many  rivals  with  you  for  the  kingdom, 
be  just  and  honorable,  that  you  may  not  receive  the  king- 


496 


AND  GREAT  COMMANDERS. 


dom  as  my  gift,  but  by  your  own  merit.  He  charged  him 
to  be  observant  of  Aristotle,  and  study  philosophy.  That 
you  may  not,  said  he,  do  many  things  which  I  now  repent 
of  doing.  He  made  one  of  Antipater’s  recommendation  a 
judge  ;  and  perceiving  afterwards  that  his  hair  and  beard 
were  colored,  he  removed  him,  saying,  I  could  not  think 
one  that  was  faithless  in  his  hair  could  be  trusty  in  his  deeds. 
As  he  sate  judge  in  the  cause  of  one  Machaetas,  he  fell 
asleep,  and  for  want  of  minding  his  arguments,  gave  judg¬ 
ment  against  him.  And  when  being  enraged  he  cried  out, 
I  appeal;  To  whom,  said  he,  wilt  thou  appeal?  To  you 
yourself,  O  king,  said  he,  when  you  are  awake  to  hear  me 
with  attention.  Then  Philip  rousing  and  coming  to  him¬ 
self,  and  perceiving  Machaetas  w^as  injured,  although  he 
did  not  reverse  the  sentence,  he  paid  the  fine  himself. 
When  Harpalus,  in  behalf  of  Crates  his  kinsman  and 
intimate  friend,  who  was  charged  with  disgraceful  crimes, 
begged  that  Crates  might  pay  the  fine  and  so  cause  the  action 
to  be  withdrawn  and  avoid  public  disgrace  ;  —  It  is  better, 
said  he,  that  he  should  be  reproached  upon  his  own  account, 
than  we  for  him.  His  friends  being  enraged  because  the 

Peloponnesians,  to  whom  he  had  shown  favor,  hissed  at 

( 

him  in  the  Olympic  games.  What  then,  said  he,  would  they 
do  if  we  should  abuse  them  ?  Awaking  after  he  had 
overslept  himself  in  the  army  ;  I  slept,  said  he,  securely, 
for  Antipater  watched.  Another  time,  being  asleep  in  the 
day-time,  while  the  Grecians  fretting  with  impatience 
thronged  at  the  gates  ;  Do  not  wonder,  said  Parmenio  to 
them,  if  Philip  be  now  asleep,  for  while  you  slept  he  was 
awake.  AVhen  he  corrected  a  musician  at  a  banquet,  and 
discoursed  with  him  concerning  notes  and  instruments,  the 
musician  replied :  Far  be  that  dishonor  from  your  majesty, 
that  you  should  understand  these  things  better  than  I  do. 
While  he  was  at  variance  with  his  Avife  Olympia  and  his  son, 
Demaratus  the  Corinthian  came  to  him,  and  Philip  asked 


THE  APOPHTHEGMS  OF  KINGS 


497 


him  how  the  Grecians  held  together.  Demaratus  replied : 
You  had  need  to  enquire  how  the  Grecians  agree,  who 
agree  so  well  with  your  nearest  relations.  Whereupon  he 
let  fall  his  anger,  and  was  reconciled  to  them.  A  poor  old 
woman  petitioned  and  dunned  him  often  to  hear  her  cause  ; 
and  he  answered,  I  am  not  at  leisure  ;  the  old  woman 
bawled  out.  Do  not  reign  then.  He  admired  the  speech, 
and  immediately  heard  her  and  others. 

Alexander.  While  Alexander  was  a  boy,  Philip  had 
great  success  in  his  affairs,  at  which  he  did  not  rejoice,  but 
told  the  children  that  were  brought  up  with  him,  My  father 
will  leave  me  nothing  to  do.  The  children  answered,  Your 
father  gets  all  this  for  you.  But  what  good,  saitli  he,  will 
it  do  me,  if  I  possess  much  and  do  nothing  ?  Being  nim¬ 
ble  and  light-footed,  his  father  encouraged  him  to  run  in 
the  Olympic  race  ;  Yes,  said  he,  if  there  were  any  kings 
there  to  run  with  me.  A  wench  beins:  brought  to  lie  with 
him  late  in  the  evening,  he  asked  why  she  tarried  so  long. 
She  answered,  I  staid  until  my  husband  was  abed ;  and  he 
sharply  reproved  his  pages,  because  through  their  careless¬ 
ness  he  had  almost  committed  adultery.  As  he  was  sacri¬ 
ficing  to  the  Gods  liberally,  and  often  offered  frankincense, 
Leonidas  his  tutor  standing  by  said,  O  son;  thus  generously 
will  you  sacrifice,  when  you  have  conquered  the  country 
that  bears  frankincense.  And  when  he  had  conquered  it, 
he  sent  him  this  letter :  I  have  sent  you  an  hundred  talents 
of  frankincense  and  cassia,  that  hereafter  you  may  not  be 
niggardly  towards  the  Gods,  when  you  understand  I  have 
conquered  the  country  in  which  perfumes  grow.  The 
night  before  he  fought  at  the  river  Granicus,  he  exhorted 
the  Macedonians  to  sup  plentifully  and  to  bring  out  all 
they  had,  as  they  were  to  sup  the  next  day  at  the  charge 
of  their  enemies.  Perillus,  one  of  his  friends,  begged  of 
him  portions  for  his  daughters ;  and  he  ordered  him  to 
receive  fifty  talents.  And  when  he  said.  Ten  were  enough. 


498 


AND  GREAT  COMMANDERS. 


Alexander  replied :  Enough  for  you  to  receive,  but  not  for 
me  to  give.  He  commanded  his  steward  to  give  Anaxar- 
chus  the  philosopher  as  much  as  he  should  ask  for.  He 
asketh,  said  the  steward,  for  an  hundred  talents.  He  doth 
well,  said  he,  knowing  he  hath  a  friend  that  both  can  and 
will  bestow  so  much  on  him.  Seeing  at  Miletus  many 
statues  of  wrestlers  that  had  overcome  in  the  Olympic 
and  Pythian  games,  And  where,  said  he,  were  these  lusty 
fellows  when  the  barbarians  assaulted  your  cityl  When 
Ada  queen  of  Caria  was  ambitious  often  to  send  him 
sauces  and  sweetmeats  delicately  prepared  by  the  best 
cooks  and  artists,  he  said,'  I  have  better  confectioners  of 
my  own,  viz.,  my  night-travelling  for  my  breakfast,  and  my 
spare  breakfast  for  my  dinner.  All  things  being  prepared 
for  a  fight,  his  captains  asked  him  whether  he  had  any  thing 
else  to  command  them.  Nothing,  said  he,  but  that  the 
Macedonians  should  shave  their  beards.  Parmenio  won¬ 
dering  at  it,  Do  you  not  know,  said  he,  there'is  no  better 
hold  in  a  fight  than  the  beard  ]  When  Darius  offered  him 
ten  thousand  talents,  and  to  divide  Asia  equally  with  him ; 
I  would  accept  it,  said  Parmenio,  were  I  Alexander.  And 
so  truly  would  I,  said  Alexander,  if  I  were  Parmenio. 
But  he  answered  Darius,  that  the  earth  could  not  bear 
two  suns,  nor  Asia  two  kings.  When  he  was  going  to 
fight  for  the  world  at  Arbela,  against  ten  hundred  thousand 
enemies  set  in  array  against  him,  some  of  his  friends  came 

to  him,  and  told  him  the  discourse  of  the  soldiers  in  their 

\ 

tents,  who  had  agreed  that  nothing  of  the  spoils  should  be 
brought  into  the  treasury,  but  they  would  have  all  them¬ 
selves.  You  tell  me  good  news,  said  he,  for  I  hear  the 
discourse  of  men  that  intend  to  fight,  and  not  to  run  away. 
Several  of  his  soldiers  came  to  him  and  said :  O  King !  be 
of  good  courage,  and  fear  not  the  multitude  of  your  ene¬ 
mies,  for  they  will  not  be  able  to  endure  the  very  stink  of 
our  sweat.  The  army  being  marshalled,  he  saw  a  soldier 


THE  APOPHTHEGMS  OF  KINGS 


499 


fitting  his  thong  to  his  javelin,  and  dismissed  him  as  a  use¬ 
less  fellow,  for  fitting  his  weapons  when  he  should  use 
them.  As  he  was  reading  a  letter  from  his  mother,  con¬ 
taining  secrets  and  accusations  of  Antipater,  Hephaestion 
also  (as  he  was  wont)  read  it  along  with  him.  Alexander 
did  not  hinder  him  ;  but  when  the  letter  was  read,  he  took 
his  ring  off  his  finger,  and  laid  the  seal  of  it  upon  He- 
phaestion’s  mouth.  Being  saluted  as  the  son  of  Jupiter  in 
the  temple  of  Ammon  by  the  chief  priest ;  It  is  no  won¬ 
der,  said  he,  for  Jupiter  is  by  nature  the  father  of  all,  and 
calls  the  best  men  his  sons.  When  he  was  wounded  with 
an  arrow  in  the  ankle,  and  many  ran  to  him  that  were 
wont  to  call  him  a  God,  he  said  smiling :  That  is  blood,  as 
you  see,  and  not,  as  Homer  saith,  — 

Such  humor  as  distils  from  blessed  Gods.* 

To  some  that  commended  the  frugality  of  Antipater,  whose 
diet  was  sober  and  without  luxury ;  Outwardly,  said  he, 
Antipater  wears  white  clothes,  but  within  he  is  all  purple. 
In  a  cold  winter  day  one  of  his  friends  invited  him  to  a 
banquet,  and  there  being  a  little  fire  on  a  small  hearth,  he 
bid  him  fetch  either  wood  or  frankincense.  Antipatridas 
brought  a  beautiful  singing  woman  to  supper  with  him ; 
Alexander,  being  taken  with  her  visage,  asked  Antipatridas 
whether  she  was  his  miss  or  not.  And  when  he  confessed 
she  was  ;  O  villain,  said  he,  turn  her  immediately  out 
from  the  banquet.  Again,  when  Cassander  forced  a  kiss 
from  Pytho,  a  boy  beloved  by  Evius  the  piper,  and  Alex¬ 
ander  perceived  that  Evius  was  concerned  at  it,  he  was  ex¬ 
tremely  enraged  at  Cassander,  and  said  with  a  loud  voice. 
It  seems  nobody  must  be  loved  if  you  can  help  it.  When 
he  sent  such  of  the  Macedonians  as  were  sick  and  maimed  to 
the  sea,  they  showed  him  one  that  was  in  health  and  yet 
subscribed  his  name  among  the  sick ;  being  brought  into 


*  II.  V.  340. 


500 


AND  GREAT  COMMANDERS. 


the  presence  and  examined,  he  confessed  he  used  that  pre¬ 
tence  for  the  love  of  Telesippa,  who  was  going  to  the  sea. 
Alexander  asked,  of  whom  he  could  make  inquiries  about 
this  Telesippa,  and  hearing  she  was  a  free  woman,  he  said. 
Therefore,  my  Antigenes,  let  us  persuade  her  to  stay  with 
us,  for  to  force  her  to  do  so  when  she  is  a  free  woman  is 
not  according  to  my  custom.  Of  the  mercenary  Grecians 
that  fought  against  him  he  took  many  prisoners.  He  com¬ 
manded  the  Athenians  should  be  kept  in  chains,  because 
they  served  for  wages  when  they  were  allowed  a  public 
maintenance  ;  and  the  Thessalians,  because  when  they  had' 
a  fruitful  country  they  did  not  till  it ;  but  he  set  the  The¬ 
bans  free,  saying.  To  them  only  I  have  left  neither  city  nor 
country.  He  took  captive  an  excellent  Indian  archer  that 
said  he  could  shoot  an  arrow  through  a  ring,  and  com¬ 
manded  him  to  show  his  skill ;  and  when  the  man  refused 
to  do  this,  he  commanded  him  in  a  rage  to  be  put  to  death. 
The  man  told  them  that  led  him  to  execution  that,  not 
having  practised  for  many  days,  he  was  afraid  he  should 
miss.  Alexander,  hearing  this,  wondered  at  him  and  dis¬ 
missed  him  with  rewards,  because  he  chose  rather  to  die 
than  show  himself  unworthy  of  his  reputation.  Taxiles, 
one  of  the  Indian  kings,  met  Alexander,  and  advised  him 
not  to  make  war  nor  fight  with  him,  but  if  he  were  a 
meaner  person  than  himself,  to  receive  kindness  from  him, 
or  if  lie  were  a  better  man,  to  show  kindness  to  him.  He 
answered,  that  was  the  very  thing  they  must  fight  for,  who 
should  exceed  the  other  in  bounty.  When  he  heard  the 
rock  called  Aornus  in  India  was  by  its  situation  impregna¬ 
ble,  but  the  commander  of  it  was  a  coivard ;  Then,  said 
he,  the  place  is  easy  to  be  taken.  Another,  commanding 
a  rock  thought  to  he  invincible,  surrendered  himself  and 
the  rock  to  Alexander,  who  committed  the  said  rock  and 
tlie  adjacent  country  to  his  government,  saying :  I  take  this 
for  a  wise  man,  who  chose  rather  to  commit  himself  to  a 


THE  APOPHTHEGMS  OF  KINGS 


501 


good  man  than  to  a  strong  place.  When  the  rock  was 
taken,  his  friends  said  that  it  exceeded  the  deeds  of  Hercu¬ 
les.  But  I,  said  he,  do  not  think  my  actions  and  all  my 
empire  to  be  compared  with  one  word  of  Hercules.  He 
hned  some  of  his  friends  whom  he  caught  playing  at  dice 
in  earnest.  Of  his  chief  and  most  powerful  friends,  he 
seemed  most  to  respect  Craterus,  and  to  love  Hephaestion. 
Craterus,  said  he,  is  the  friend  of  the  king ;  but  Hephaes¬ 
tion  is  the  friend  of  Alexander.  He  sent  fifty  talents  to 
Xenocrates  the  philosopher,  who  would  not  receive  them, 
saying  he  was  not  in  want.  And  he  asked  whether  Xeno¬ 
crates  had  no  friend  either;  For  as  to  myself,  said  he,  the 
treasure  of  Darius  is  hardly  sufficient  for  me  to  bestow 
among  my  friends.  He  demanded  of  Porus,  after  the  fight, 
how  he  should  treat  him.  Boyally,  said  he,  like  a  king. 
And  being  again  asked,  what  farther  he  had  to  request ; 
All  things,  said  he,  are  in  that  word  royally.  Admiring 
his  wisdom  and  valor,  he  gave  him  a  greater  government 
than  he  had  before.  Being  told  a  certain  person  reviled 
him.  To  do  good,  said  he,  and  to  be  evil  spoken  of  is 
kingly.  As  he  was  dying,  looking  upon  his  friends,  I  see, 
said  he,  my  funeral  tournament  will  be  great.  When  he 
was  dead,  Demades  the  rhetorician  likened  the  Macedonian 
army  without  a  general  to  Polyphemus  the  Cyclops  when 
his  eye  was  put  out. 

Ptolemy.  Ptolemy,  the  son  of  Lagus,  frequently  supped 
with  his  friends  and  lay  at  their  houses ;  and  if  at  any 
time  he  invited  them  to  supper,  he  made  use  of  their  fur¬ 
niture,  sending  for  vessels,  carpets,  and  'tables  ;  for  he  him¬ 
self  had  only  things  that  were  of  constant  use  about  him, 
saying  it  was  more  becoming  a  king  to  make  others  rich 
than  to  be  rich  himself. 

Antigonus.  Antigonus  exacted  money  severely.  When 
one  told  him  that  Alexander  did  not  do  so.  It  may  be  so, 
said  he ;  Alexander  reaped  Asia,  and  I  but  glean  after  him. 


502 


AND  GREAT  COMMANDERS. 


Seeing  some  soldiers  playing  at  ball  in  head-pieces  and 
breast-plates,  he  was  pleased,  and  sent  for  their  officers, 
intending  to  commend  thfem ;  but  when  he  heard  the  offi¬ 
cers  were  drinking,  he  bestowed  their  commands  on  the 
soldiers.  When  all  men  wondered  that  in  his  old  age  his 
government  was  mild  and  easy  ;  Formerly,  said  he,  I  sought 
for  power,  but  now  for  glory  and  good-will.  To  Philip  his 
son,  who  asked  him  in  the  presence  of  many  Avhen  the 
army  would  march.  What,  said  he,  are  you  afraid  that  you 
only  should  not  hear  the  trumpet  ]  The  same  young  man 
being  desirous  to  quarter  at  a  widow’s  house  that  had  three 
handsome  daughters,  Antigonus  called  the  quartermaster  to 
him :  Prithee,  said  he,  help  my  son  out  of  these  straits. 
Kecovering  from  a  slight  disease,  he  said:  No  harm;  this 
distemper  puts  me  in  mind  not  to  aim  at  great  things,  since 
we  are  mortal.  Plermodotus  in  his  poems  called  him  Son 
of  the  Sun.  He  that  attends  my  close-stool,  said  he,  sings 
me  no  such  song.  When  one  said.  All  things  in  kings  are 
just  and  honorable,  —  Indeed,  said  he,  for  barbarian  kings  ; 
but  for  us  only  honorable  things  are  honorable,  and  only 
just  things  are  just.  Marsyas  his  brother  had  a  cause  de¬ 
pending,  and  requested  him  it  might  be  examined  at  his 
house.  Nay,  said  he,  it  shall  be  heard  in  the  judgment- 
hall,  that  all  may  hear  whether  ^^e  do  exact  justice  or  not. 
In  the  winter  being  forced  to  pitch  his  camp  where  neces¬ 
saries  were  scarce,  some  of  his  soldiers  reproached  him, 
not  knowing  he  was  near. .  He  opened  the  tent  with  his 
cane,  saying  :  Woe  be  to  you,  unless  you  get  you  farther  off 
when  you  revile  me.  Aristodemus,  one  of  his  friends, 
supposed  to  be  a  cook’s  son,  advised  him  to  moderate  his  gifts 
and  expenses.  Thy  words,  said  he,  Aristodemus,  smell  of 
the  apron.  The  Athenians,  out  of  a  respect  to  him,  gave 
one  of  his  servants  the  freedom  of  their  city.  And  I  would 
not,  said  he,  have  any  Athenian  whipped  by  my  com¬ 
mand.  A  youth,  scholar  to  Anaximenes  the  rhetorician, 


THE  APOPHTHEGMS  OF  KINGS 


503 


spoke  in  his  presence  a  prepared  and  studied  speech  ; 
and  he  asking  something  which  he  desired  to  learn,  the 
youth  was  silent.  What  do  you  say,  said  he,  is  all  that 
you  have  said  written  in  your  table-book  1  When  he  heard 
another  rhetorician  say.  The  snow-spread  season  makes 
the  country  fodder  spent ;  Will  you  not  stop,  said,  he, 
prating  to  me  as  you  do  to  the  rabble  ]  Thrasyllus  the 
Cynic  begged  a  drachm  of  him.  That,  said  he,  is  too  little 
for  a  king  to  give.  Why  then,  said  the  other,  give  me  a 
talent.  And  that,  said  he,  is  too  much  for  a  Cynic  (or 
for  a  dog)  to  receive.  Sending  his  son  Demetrius  with 
ships  and  land-forces  to  make  Greece  free  ;  Glory,  said 
he,  from  Greece,  as  from  a  watch-tower,  will  shine  through¬ 
out  the  world.  Antagoras  the  poet  was  boiling  a  conger, 
and  Antigonus,  coming  behind  him  as  he  was  stirring  his 
skillet,  said :  Do  you  think,  Antagoras,  that  Homer  boiled 
congers,  when  he  wrote  the  deeds  of  Agamemnon  ?  An¬ 
tagoras  replied :  Do  you  think,  O  King,  that  Agamemnon, 
when  he  did  such  exploits,  was  a  peeping  in  his  army  to 
see  who  boiled  congers  ?  After  he  had  seen  in  a  dream 
Mithridates  mowing  a  golden  harvest,  he  designed  to  kill 
him,  and  acquainted  Demetrius  his  son  with  his  design, 
making  him  swear  to  conceal  it.  But  Demetrius,  taking 
Mithridates  aside  and  walking  with  him  by  the  seaside, 
with  the  pick  of  his  spear  wrote  on  the  shore,  “  Fly, 
Mithridates ;  ”  which  he  understanding,  fled  into  Pontus, 
and  there  reigned  until  his  death. 

Demetrius.  Demetrius,  while  he  was  besieging  Bhodes, 
found  in  one  of  the  suburbs  the  picture  of  lalysus  made 
by  Protogenes  the  painter.  The  Bhodiaus  sent  a  herald  to 
him,  beseeching  him  not  to  deface  the  picture.  I  will 
sooner,  said  he,  deface  my  father’s  statues,  than  such  a 
picture.  When  he  made  a  league  with  the  Bhodians,  he 
left  behind  him  an  engine,  called  the  City  Taker,  that  it 
might  be  a  memorial  of  his  magnificence  and  of  their  cour- 


504 


AND  GREAT  COMMANDERS. 


age.  When  the  Athenians  rebelled,  and  he  took  the  city, 
which  had  been  distressed  for  want  of  provision,  he  called 
an  assembly  and  gave  them  corn.  And  while  he  made  a 
speech  to  them  concerning  that  affair,  he  spoke  improp¬ 
erly  ;  and  when  one  that  sat  by  told  him  how  the  word 
ought  to  be  spoken,  he  said For  this  correction  I  bestow 
upon  you  five  thousand  bushels  more. 

Antigonus  THE  Slcond.  Antigonus  the  Second  —  when 
his  father  was  a  prisoner,  and  sent  one  of  his  friends  to 
admonish  him  to  pay  no  regard  to  any  thing  that  he  might 
write  at  the  constraint  of  Seleucus,  and  to  enter  into  no 
obligation  to  surrender  up  the  cities  —  wrote  to  Seleucus 
that  he  would  give  up  his  whole  kingdom,  and  himself  for 
an  hostage,  that  his  father  might  be  set  free.  Being  about 
to  fight  by  sea  with  the  lieutenants  of  Ptolemy,  and  the 
pilot  telling  him  the  enemy  outnumbered  him  in  ships,  he 
said :  But  how  many  ships  do  you  reckon  my  presence  to 
be  worth  ?  Once  when  he  gave  ground,  his  enemies  press¬ 
ing  upon  him,  he  denied  that  he  fled ;  but  he  betook  him¬ 
self  (as  he  said)  to  an  advantage  that  lay  behind  him.  To 
a  youth,  son  of  a  valiant  father,  but  himself  no  very  great 
soldier,  petitioning  he  might  receive  his  father  s  pay ;  Young 
man,  said  he,  I  pay  and  reward  men  for  their  own,  not  for 
their  fathers’  valor.  When  Zeno  of  Citium,  whom  he 
admired  beyond  all  philosophers,  died,  he  said,  The  theatre 
of  my  actions  is  fallen. 

Lysimachus.  Lysimachus,  when  he  was  overcome  by 
Dromichaetas  in  Thrace  and  constrained  by  thirst,  sur¬ 
rendered  himself  and  his  army.  When  he  was  a  prisoner, 
and  had  drunk ;  O  Gods,  said  he,  for  how  small  a  satisfac¬ 
tion  have  I  made  myself  a  slave  from  a  king !  To  Philip- 
pides  the  comedian,  his  friend  and  companion,  he  said : 
What  have  I  that  I  may  impart  to  you  ?  He  answered, 
What  you  please,  except  your  secrets. 

Antipater.  Antipater,  hearing  that  Parmenio  was  slain 


505 


THE  APOPHTHEGMS  OP  KINGS 

by  Alexander,  said :  If  Parmenio  conspired  against  Alex¬ 
ander,  whom  may  we  trust?  but  if  he  did  not,  what  is  to 
be  done  ?  Of  Demades  the  rhetorician,  now  grown  old,  he 
said:  As  of  sacrifices  when  finished,  so  there  is  nothing  left 
of  him  but  his  belly  and  tongue. 

Antiochus  the  Xhird.  Antiochus  the  Third  wrote  to 
the  cities,  that  if  he  should  at  any  time  write  for  any  thing 
to  be  done  contrary  to  the  law,  they  should  not  obey,  but 
suppose  it  to  be  done  out  of  ignorance.  AVhen  he  saw 
the  Priestess  of  Diana,  that  she  was  exceeding  beautiful, 
he  presently  removed  from  Ephesus,  lest  he  should  be 
swayed,  contrary  to  his  judgment,  to  commit  some  unholy 
act. 

Antiochus  Hierax.  Antiochus,  surnamed  the  Hawk, 
warred  with  his  brother  Seleucus  for  the  kingdom.  After 
Seleucus  was  overcome  by  the  Galatians,  and  was  not  to.  be 
heard  of,  but  supposed  to  be  slain  in  the  fight,  he  laid  aside 
his  purple  and  went  into  mourning.  A  while  after,  hearing 
his  brother  was  safe,  he  sacrificed  to  the  Gods  for  the  good 
news,  and  caused  the  cities  under  his  dominion  to  put  on 
garlands. 

Eumenes.  Eumenes  was  thought  to  be  slain  by  a  con¬ 
spiracy  of  Perseus.  That  report  being  brought  to  Perga- 
mus.  Attains  his  brother  put  on  the  crown,  married  his  • 
wife,  and  took  upon  him  the  kingdom.  Hearing  after¬ 
wards  his  brother  was  alive  and  upon  the  way,  he  met  him, 
as  he  used  to  do,  with  his  life-guard,  and  a  spear  in  his 
hand.  Eumenes  embraced  him  kindly,  and  whispered  in 
his  ear :  — 

If  a  widow  you  will  wed, 

Wait  till  you’re  sure  her  husband’s  dead.* 

But  he  never  afterwards  did  or  spake  any  thing  that  showed 
any  suspicion  all  his  lifetime ;  but  when  he  died,  be  be¬ 
queathed  to  him  his  queen  and  kingdom.  In  requital  of 

*  anovde  yr/fiat,  Tipiv  reArur^aavr’  Idyg.  Prom  Sophocles’s  Tyro,  Frag.  596, 


506 


AND  GREAT  COMMANDERS. 


whicli,  his  brother  bred  up  none  of  his  own  children, 
although  he  had  many ;  but  when  the  son  of  Eumenes 
was  grown  up,  he  bestowed  the,  kingdom  on  him  in  his 
own  lifetime. 


when  they  w^ere  boys,  to  wdiom  he  would  leave  the  king¬ 
dom.  To  him  of  you,  saith  he,  that  hath  the  sharpest 
sword.  Being  asked  whether  Pytho  or  Caphisius  was  the 
better  piper,  Polysperchon,  said  he,  is  the  best  general. 
He  joined  in  battle  with  the  Romans,  and  twice  overcame 
them,  but  with  the  loss  of  many  friends  and  captains.  If 
I  should  overcome  the  Romans,  said  he,  in  another  fight, 
I  were  undone.  Not  being  able  to  keep  Sicily  (as  he  said) 
from  them,  turning  to  his  friends  he  said:  What  a  fine 
wrestling  ring  do  w^e  leave  to  the  Romans  and  Carthagi¬ 
nians  !  His  soldiers  called  him  Eagle  ;  And  I  may  deserve 
the  title,  said  he,  while  I  am  borne  upon  the  wings  of  your 
arms.  Hearing  some  young  men  had  spoken  many  re 
proachful  w^ords  of  him  in  their  drink,  he  summoned  them 
all  to  appear  before  him  next  day ;  wdien  they  appeared, 
ne  asked  the  foremost  whether  they  spake  such  things  of 
him  or  not.  The  young  man  answ^ered  :  Such  words  were 
spoken,  O  King,  and  more  we  had  spoken,  if  we  had  had 
more  wine. 

Antiochus.  Antiochus,  who  twice  made  an  inroad  into 
Parthia,  as  he  w^as  once  a  hunting,  lost  his  friends  and  ser¬ 
vants  in  the  pursuit,  and  went  into  a  cottage  of  poor  people 
wdio  did  not  know  him.  As  they  were  at  supper,  he  threw 
out  discourse  concerning  the  king ;  they  said  for  the  most 
part  he  was  a  good  prince,  but  overlooked  many  things  he 
left  to  the  management  of  debauched  courtiers,  and  out  of 
love  of  hunting  often  neglected  his  necessary  affairs  ;  and 
there  they  stopped.  At  break  of  day  the  guard  arrived  at 
the  cottage,  and  the  king  w^as  recognized  wdien  the  crown 
and  purple  robes  w^re  brought.  From  the  day,  said  he, 


THE  APOPHTHEGMS  OF  KINGS 


507 


on  whicli  I  first  received  these,  I  never  heard  truth  con¬ 
cerning  myself  till  yesterday.  When  he  besieged  Jerusa¬ 
lem,  the  Jews,  in  respect  of  their  great  festival,  begged 
of  him  seven  days’  truce  ;  which  he  not  only  granted,  but 
preparing  oxen  with  gilded  horns,  with  a  great  quantity  of 
incense  and  perfumes,  he  went  before  them  to  the  very 
gates,  and  having  delivered  them  as  a  sacrifice  to  their 
priests,  he  returned  back  to  his  army.  The  Jews  won¬ 
dered  at  him,  and  as  soon  as  their  festival  was  finished, 
surrendered  themselves  to  him. 

Themistocles.  Themistocles  in  his  youth  was  much 
given  to  wine  and  women.  But  after  Miltiades  the  gen¬ 
eral  overcame  the  Persian  at  Marathon,  Themistocles 
utterly  forsook  his  former  disorders  ;  and  to  such  as  won¬ 
dered  at  the  change,  he  said.  The  trophy  of  Miltiades  will 
neither  suffer  me  to  sleep  nor  to  be  idle.  Being  asked 
whether  he  would  rather  be  Achilles  or  Homer,  —  And 
pray,  said  he,  which  would  you  rather  be,  a  conqueror  in 
the  Olympic  games,  or  the  crier  that  proclaims  who  are 
conquerors '?  When  Xerxes  with  that  great  navy  made  a 
descent  upon  Greece,  he  fearing,  if  Epicydes  (a  popular, 
but  a  covetous,  corrupt,  and  cowardly  person)  were  made 
general,  the  city  might  be  lost,  bribed  him  with  a  sum  of 
money  to  desist  from  that  pretence.  Adimantus  was 
afraid  to  hazard  a  sea-fight,  whereunto  Themistocles  per¬ 
suaded  and  encouraged  the  Grecians.  O  Themistocles, 
said  he,  those  that  start  before  their  time  in  the  Olympic 
games  are  always  scourged.  Aye ;  but,  Adimantus,  said 
the  other,  they  that  are  left  behind  are  not  crowned. 
Eurybiades  lifted  up  his  cane  at  him,  as  if  he  would  strike 
him.  Strike,  said  he,  but  hear  me.  When  he  could  not 
persuade  Eurybiades  to  fight  in  the  straits  of  the  sea,  he 
sent  privately  to  Xerxes,  advising  him  that  he  need  not 
fear  the  Grecians,  for  they  were  running  away.  Xerxes 
upon  this  persuasion,  fighting  m  a  place  advantageous  for 


508 


AND  GREAT  COMMANDERS. 


the  Grecians,  was  worsted ;  and  then  he  sent  him  another 
message,  and  hade  him  fly  with  all  speed  over  the  Helles¬ 
pont,  for  the  Grecians  designed  to  break  down  his  bridge ; 
that  under  pretence  of  saving  him  he  might  secure  the 
Grecians.  A  man  from  the  little  island  Seriphus  told 
him,  he  was  famous  not  upon  his  own  account  but  through 
the  city  where  he  lived.  You  say  true,  said  he,  for  if  I 
had  been  a  Seriphian,  I  had  not  been  famous  ;  nor  would 
you,  if  you  had  been  an  x\thenian.  To  Antiphatus,  a  beau¬ 
tiful  person  that  avoided  and  despised  Themistocles  when 
he  formerly  loved  him,  but  came  to  him  and  flattered  him 
when  he  was  in  great  power  and  esteem ;  Hark  you,  lad, 
said  he,  though  late,  yet  both  of  us  are  wise  at  last.  To 
Simonides  desiring  him  to  give  an  unjust  sentence.  You 
would  not  be  a  good  poet,  said  he,  if  you  should  sing  out 
of  tune ;  nor  I  a  good  governor,  if  I  should  give  judgment 
contrary  to  law.  When  his  son  was  a  little  saucy  towards 
his  mother,  he  said  that  this  boy  had  more  power  than  all 
the  Grecians,  for  the  Athenians  governed  Greece, -he  the 
Athenians,  his  wife  him,  and  his  son  his  wife.  He  pre¬ 
ferred  an  honest  man  that  wooed  his  daughter,  before  a  rich 
man.  I  would  rather,  said  he,  have  a  man  that  wants 
money,  than  money  that  wants  a  man.  Having  a  farm  to 
sell,  he  bid  the  crier  proclaim  also  that  it  had  a' good 
neighbor.  When  the  Athenians  reviled  him  ;  Why  do  you 
complain,  said  he,  that  the  same  persons  so  often  befriend 
you  ?  And  he  compared  himself  to  a  row  of  plane-trees, 
under  which  in  a  storm  passengers  run  for  shelter,  but  in 
fair  weather  they  pluck  the  leaves  off  and  abuse  them. 
Scoffing  at  the  Eretrians,  he  said.  Like  the  sword-fish,  they 
have  a  sword  indeed,  but  no  heart.  Being  banished  first 
out  of  Athens  and  afterwards  out  of  Greece,  he  betook 
himself  to  the  king  of  Persia,  who  bade  him  speak  his 
mind.  Speech,  he  said,  was  like  to  tapestry ;  and  like 
it,  Avhen  it  was  spread,  it  showed  its  figures,  but  when 


THE  APOPHTHEGMS  OF  KINGS 


509 


it  was  folded  up,  hid  and  spoiled  them.  And  therefore  he 
requested  time  until  he  might  learn  the  Persian  tongue, 
and  could  explain  himself  without  an  interpreter.  Having 
there  received  great  presents,  and  being  enriched  of  a  sud¬ 
den  ;  O  lads,  said  he  to  his  sons,  we  had  been  undone  if 
we  had  not  been  undone. 

Myronides.  Myron  ides  summoned  the  Athenians  to 
fidit  ao:ainst  the  Boeotians.  When  the  time  was  almost 
come,  and  the  captains  told  him  they  Avere  not  near  all 
come  out ;  They  are  come,  said  he,  all  that  intend  to  fight. 
And  marching  while  their  spirits  were  up,  he  overcame 
his  enemies. 

Aristides.  Aristides  the  Just  always  managed  his  offices 
'himself,  and  avoided  all  political  clubs,  because  power  got¬ 
ten  by  the  assistance  of  friends  was  an  encouragement  to 
the  unjust.  When  the  Athenians  were  fully  bent  to  banish 
him  by  an  ostracism,  an  illiterate  country  fellow  came  to 
him  Avith  his  shell,  and  asked  him  to  Avrite  in  it  the  name 
of  Aristides.  Friend,  said  he,  do  you  know  Aristides'? 
Not  1,  said  the  felloAV,  but  I  do  not  like  his  surname  of 
Just.  He  said  no  more,  but  Avrote  his  name  in  the  shell 
and  gave  it  him.  He  Avas  at  variance  with  Themistocles, 
Avho  Avas  sent  on  an  embassy  AAuth  him.  Are  you  content, 
said  he,  Themistocles,  to  leave  our  enmity  at  the  borders  ? 
and  if  you  please,  Ave  Avill  take  it  up  again  at  our  return. 
When  he  levied  an  assessment  upon  the  Greeks,  he  re¬ 
turned  poorer  by  so  much  as  he  spent  in  the  journey. 

Aeschylus  Avrote  these  verses  on  Amphiaraus  :  — 

His  shield  no  emblem  bears ;  his  generous  soul 
AVislies  to  be,  not  to  appear,  the  best; 

Wliile  tlie  deep  furrows  of  his  noble  mind 
Harvests  of  wise  and  prudent  counsel  bear.* 

*  'Lrjiia  d’  ovk  cTt^v  kvk?^(^' 

Ov  yap  (ioKEiv  upioTog  dAX’  elvac 
hadclav  uloKa  6lu  (l>pevbc  KapKOVfisvog, 

’Es  VC  Tu  Kedva  (3?iaaTuvei  fSovTieifiara. 

Aesch.  Sept.  691.  Thus  the  passage  stands  in  all  MSS.  of  Aeschylus ;  but  it  Is 


/ 


510 


AND  GREAT  COMMANDERS. 


•  ( 


And  when  they  were  pronounced  in  the  theatre,  all  turned 
their  eyes  upon  Aristides. 

Pericles.  Whenever  he  entered  on  his  command  as  gen¬ 
eral,  while  he  was  putting  on  his  war-cloak,  he  used’  thus 
to  bespeak  himself :  Remember,  Pericles,  you  govern  free¬ 
men,  Grecians,  iVthenians.  Pie  advised  the  Athenians  to 
demolish  Aegina,  as  a  dangerous  eyesore  to  the  haven  of 
Piraeus.  To  a  friend  that  wanted  him  to  bear  false  wit¬ 
ness  and  to  bind  the  same  with  an  oath,  he  said :  I  am  a 
friend  only  as  far  as  the  altar.  When  he  lay  on  his  death¬ 
bed,  he  blessed  himself  that  no  Athenian  ever  went  into 
mourning  upon  his  account. 

Alcibiades.  Alcibiades  while  he  was  a  boy,  wTestling 
in  a  ring,  seeing. he  could  not  break  his  adversary’s  hold, 
bit  him  by  the  hand ;  who  cried  out.  You  bite  like  a 
woman.  Not  so,  said  he,  but  like  a  lion.  He  had  a  very 
handsome  dog,  that  cost  him  seven  thousand  drachmas ; 
and  he  cut  off  his  tail,  that,  said  he,  the  Athenians  may 
have  this  story  to  tell  of  me,  and  may  concern  themselves 
no  farther  with  me.  Coming  into  a  school,  he  called  for 
Homer’s  Iliads  ;  and  when  the  master  told  him  he  had 
none  of  Homer’s  works,  he  gave  him  a  box  on  the  ear,  and 
went  his  way.  He  came  to  Pericles’s  gate,  and  being  told 
he  was  busy  a  preparing  his  accounts  to  be  given  to  the 
people  of  Athens,  Had  he  not  better,  said  he,  contrive 
how  he  might  give  no  account  at  all  ]  Being  summoned  by 
the  Athenians  out  of  Sicily  to  plead  for  his  life,  he  ab¬ 
sconded,  saying,  that  criminal  was  a  fool  who  studied  a 
defence  when  he  might  fly  for  it.  But,  said  one,  will  you 
not  trust  your  country  with  your  cause?  No,  said  he,  nor 
my  mother  either,  lest  she  mistake  and  cast  a  black  pebble 

quoted  by  Plutarch  in  his  Life  of  Aristides,  §  3,  with  dlKatog  in  the  second  verse  in 
the  place  of  uptaToc.  It  lias  been  plausibly  conjectured,  that  the  actor  who  spoke  the 
part  intentionally  substituted  the  word  dUaiog  as  a  compliment  to  Aristides,  on  seeing 
him  in  a  conspicuous  place  among  the  spectators.  See  Hermann’s  note  on  the  passage* 
in  his  edition  of  Aeschylus.  (G.) 


THE  APOPHTHEGMS  OF  KINGS 


511 


instead  of  a  white  one.  When  he  heard  death  was  de¬ 
creed  to  him  and  his  associates,  Let  us  convince  them,  said 
he,  that  we  are  alive.  And  passing  over  to  Lacedaemon, 
he  stirred  up  the  Decelean  war  against  the  Athenians. 

Lamachus.  Lamachus  chid  a  captain  for  a  fault ;  and 
when  he  had  said  he  would  do  so  no  more.  Sir,  said  he,  in 
war  there  is  no  room  for  a  second  miscarriage. 

Iphicrates.  Iphicrates  was  despised  because  he  was 
thought  to  be  a  shoemaker’s  son.  The  exploit  that  first 
brought  him  into  repute  was  this  :  when  he  was  wounded 
himself,  he  caught  up  one  of  the  enemies  and  carried  him 
alive  and  in  his  armor  to  his  own  ship.  He  once  pitched 
his  camp  in  a  country  belonging  to  his  allies  and  confed¬ 
erates,  and  yet  he  fortified  it  exactly  with  a  trench  and 
bulwark.  Said  one  to  him.  What  are  ye  afraid  of?  Of  all 
speeches,  said  he,  none  is  so  dishonorable  for  a  general,  as 
1  should  not  have  thought  it.  As  he  marshalled  his  army 
to  fight  with  barbarians,  I  am  afraid,  said  he,  they  do  not 
know  Iphicrates,  for  his  very  name  used  to  strike  terror 
into  other  enemies.  Being  accused  of  a  capital  crime,  he 
said  to  the  informer :  O  fellow !  what  art  thou  doing,  who, 
wdien  ^var  is  at  hand,  dost  advise  the  city  to  consult  con¬ 
cerning  me,  and  not  with  me?  To  Harmodius,  descended 
from  the  ancient  Harmodius,  when  he  reviled  him  for  his 
mean  birth.  My  nobility,  said  he,  begins  in  me,  but  yours 
ends  in  you.  A  rhetorician  asked  him  in  an  assembly, 
who  he  was  that  he  took  so  much  upon  him,^ —  horseman, 
or  footman,  or  archer,  or  shield-bearer.  Neither  of  them, 
said  he,  but  one  that  understands  how  to  command  all 
those. 

Timotheus.  Timotheus  was  reputed  a  successful  gen¬ 
eral,  and  some  that  envied  him  painted  cities  falling  under 
his  net  of  their  own  accord,  while  he  was  asleep.  Said 
Timotheus,  If  I  take  such  cities  wLen  I  am  asleep,  what 
do  you  think  I  shall  do  when  I  am  awake  ?  A  confident 


512 


AND  GREAT  COMMANDERS. 


commander  showed  the  Athenians  a  wound  he  had  re¬ 
ceived.  But  I,  said  he,  when  I  was  your  general  in 
Samos,  was  ashamed  that  a  dart  from  an  engine  fell*  near 
me.  The  orators  set  up  Chares  as  one  they  thought  tit  to 
be  general  of  the  Athenians.  Not  to  be  general,  said 
Timotheus,  but  to  carry  the  general’s  baggage. 

Chabrtas.  Chabrias  said,  they  were  the  best  commanders 
who  best  understood  the  affairs  of  their  enemies.  He  was 
once  indicted  for  treason  with  Iphicrates,  who  blamed  him 
for  exposing  himself  to  danger,  by  going  to  the  place  of 
exercise,  and  dining  at  his  usual  hour.  If  the  Athenians, 
said  he,  deal  severely  with  us,  you  will  die  all  foul  and 
gut-foundered ;  I’ll  die  clean  and  anointed,  with  my  dinner 
in  my  belly.  He  w^as  wont  to  say,  that  an  army  of  stags, 
Avith  a  lion  for  their  commander,  was  more  formidable  than 
an  army  of  lions  led  by  a  stag. 

H  EGESippus.  When  Hegesippus,  surnamed  .Crobylus 
(i.e.  Top-knot)^  instigated  the  Athenians  against  Philip, 
one  of  the  assembly  cried  out.  You  would  not  persuade  us 
to  a  Avar  ?  Yes,  indeed,  Avould  I,  said  he,  and  to  mourning 
clothes  and  to  public  funerals  and  to  funeral  speeches, 
if  Ave  intend  to  live  free  and  not  submit  to  the  pleasure 
of  the  Macedonians. 

Pytheas.  Pytheas,  Avhen  he  Avas  a  young  man,  stood 
forth  to  oppose  the  decrees  made  concerning  Alexander. 
One  said:  HaA^e  you,  young  man,  the  confidence  to  speak 
in  such  Aveighty  affairs  I  And  Avhy  not  ?  said  he  :  Alexander, 
Avhom  you  voted  a  God,  is  younger  than  I  am. 

Phocion.  Phocion  the  Athenian  Avas  never  seen  to 
laugh  or  cry.  In  an  assembly  one  told  him.  You  seem  to 
be  thoughtful,  Phocion.  You  guess  right,  said  he,  for  I 
am  contriving  hoAV  to  contract  Avhat  I  haA'e  to  say  to  the 
people  of  Athens.  The  Oracle  told  the  Athenians,  there 
was  one  man  in  the  city  of  a  contrary  judgment  to  all  the 
rest ;  and  the  Athenians  in  a  hubbub  ordered  search  to  be 


THE  APOPHTHEGMS  OP  KINGS 


513 


made,  who  this  should  be.  I,  said  Phocion,  am  the  man  ; 
I  alone  am  pleased  with  nothing  the  common  people  say 
or  do.  Once  when  he  had  delivered  an  opinion  which 
pleased  the  people,  and  perceived  it  was  entertained  by  a 
general  consent,  he  turned  to  his  friend,  and  said :  Have  I 
not  unawares  spoken  some  mischievous  thing  or  other  ] 
The  Athenians  gathered  a  benevolence  for  a  certain  sacri¬ 
fice  ;  and  when  others  contributed  to  it,  he  being  often 
spoken  to  said :  I  should  be  ashamed  to  give  to  you,  and 
not  to  pay  this  man,  —  pointing  to  one  of  his  creditors. 
Demosthenes  the  orator  told  him.  If  the  Athenians  should 
be  mad,  they  would  kill  you.  Like  enough,  said  he,  me 
if  they  Avere  mad,  but  you  if  they  Avere  Avise.  Aristo- 
giton  the  informer,  being  condemned  and  ready  to  be 
executed  in  prison,  entreated  that  Phocion  Avould  come  to 
him.  And  Avhen  his  friends  Avould  not  suffer  him  to  go  to 
so  vile  a  person  ;  And  where,  said  he,  would  you  discourse 
with  Aristogiton  more  pleasantly  ?  The  Athenians  were 
offended  with  the  Byzantines,  for  refusing  to  receive  Chares 
into  their  city,  Avho  Avas  sent  with  forces  to  assist  them 
against  Philip.  Said  Phocion,  You  ought  not  to  be  dis¬ 
pleased  Avith  the  distrust  of  your  confederates,  but  with 
your  commanders  that  are  not  to  be  trusted.  Whereupon 
he  Avas  chosen  general,  and  being  trusted  by  the  Byzantines, 
he  forced  Philip  to  return  Avithout  his  errand.  King 
Alexander  sent  him  a  present  of  a  hundred  talents ;  and 
he  asked  those  that  brought  it,  Avhat  it  should  mean  that, 
of  all  the  Athenians,  Alexander  should  be  thus  kind  to 
him.  They  ansAvered,  because  he  esteemed  him  alone  to 
be  a  Avorthy  and  upright  person.  Pray  therefore,  said  he, 
let  him  suffer  me  to  seem  as  Avell  as  to  be  so.  Alexander 
sent  to  them  for  some  ships,  and  the  people  calling  for 
Phocion  by  name,  bade  him  speak  his  opinion.  He  stood 
up  and  told  them :  I  advise  you  either  to  conquer  your¬ 
selves,  or  else  to  side  with  the  conqueror.  An  uncertain 


514 


AND  GREAT  COMMANDERS. 


rumor  happened,  that  Alexander  was  dead.  Immediately 
the  orators  leaped  into  the  pulpit,  and  advised  them  to 
make  war  without  delay ;  but  Phocion  entreated  them  to 
tarry  awhile  and  know  the  certainty :  For,  said  he,  if  he 
is  dead  to-day,  he  will  be  dead  to-morrow,  and  so  forwards. 
Leosthenes  hurried  the  city  into  a  war,  with  fond  hopes 
conceited  at  the  name  of  liberty  and  command.  Phocion 
compared  his  speeches  to  cypress-trees  ;  They  are  tall,  said 
he,  and  comely,  but  bear  no  fruit.  However,  the  first 
attempts  were  successful ;  and  when  the  city  was  sacrific¬ 
ing  for  the  good  news,  he  was  asked  whether  he  did  not 
wish  he  had  done  this  himself.  I  would,  said  he,  have 
done  what  has  been  done,  but  have  advised  what  I  did. 
When  the  Macedonians  invaded  Attica  and  plundeied  the 
seacoasts,  he  drew  out  the  youth.  When  many  came  to 
him  and  generally  persuaded  him  by  all  means  to  possess 
himself  of  such  an  ascent,  and  thereon  to  marshal  his 
army,  O  Hercules !  said  he,  how  many  commanders  do  I 
see,  and  how  few  soldiers'?  Yet  he  fought  and  overcame, 
and  slew  Nicion,  the  commander  of  the  Macedonians. 
But  in  a  short  time  the  Athenians  were  overcome,  and 
admitted  a  garrison  sent  by  Antipater.  Menyllus,  the 
governor  of  that  garrison,  offered  money  to  Phocion,  who 
was  enraged  thereby  and  said :  This  man  is  no  better  than 
Alexander  ;  and  what  I  refused  then  I  can  with  less  honor 
receive  now;  Antipater  said,  of  the  two  friends  he  had 
at  Athens,  he  could  never  persuade  Phocion  to  accept  a 
present,  nor  could  he  ever  satisfy  Demades  with  presents. 
When  Antipater  requested  him  to  do  some  indirect  thing 
or  other.  Anti  pater,  said  he,  you  cannot  have  Phocion  for 
your  friend  and  flatterer  too.  After  the  death  of  Antipater, 
democracy  was  established  in  Athens,  and  the  assembly 
decreed  the  death  of  Phocion  and  his  friends.  The  rest 
were  led  weeping  to  execution  ;  but  as  Phocion  passed 
silently,  one  of  his  enemies  met  him  and  spat  m  his  face. 


THE  APOPHTHEGMS  OF  KINGS 


515 


But  he  turned  himself  to  the  magistrates,  and  said,  Will 
nobody  restrain  this  insolent  fellow?  One  of  those  that 
were  to  suffer  with  him  lamented  and  took  on :  Why, 
Euippus,  said  he,  are  you  not  pleased  that  you  die  with 
Phocion  ?  When  the  cup  of  hemlock  was  brought  to  him, 
being  asked  whether  he  had  any  thing  to  say  to  his  son  ;  I 
command  you,  said  he,  and  entreat  you  not  to  think  of 
any  revenge  upon  the  Athenians. 

PisisTiiATUs.  Pisistratus,  tyrant  of  x\thens,  when  some 
of  his  party  revolted  from  him  and  possessed  themselves 
of  Phyle,  came  to  them  bearing  his  baggage  on  his  back. 
They  asked  him  what  he  meant  by  it.  Eithei,  said  he,  to 
persuade  you  to  return  with  me,  or  if  I  cannot  persuade 
you,  to  tarry  with  you  ;  and  therefore  I  come  prepared 
accordingly.  An  accusation  was  brought  to  him  against 
his  mother,  that  she  was  in  love  and  used  secret  familiarity 
with  a  young  man,  who  out  of  fear  for  the  most  part  re¬ 
fused  her.  This  young  man  he  invited  to  supper,  and  as 
they  were  at  supper  asked  him  how  he  liked  his  entertain¬ 
ment.  Pie  answered,  Very  well.  Thus,  said  he,  you  shall 
be  treated  daily,  if  you  please  my  mother.  Thrasybulus 
was  in  love  with  his  daughter,  and  as  he  met  her,  kissed 
her  ;  whereupon  his  wife  would  have  incensed  him  against 
Thrasybulus.  If,  said  he,  we  hate  those  that  love  us, 
what  shall  we  do  to  them  that  hate  us  ?  —  and  he  gave 
the  maid  in  marriage  to  Thrasybulus.  Some  lascivious 
drunken  persons  by  chance  met  his  wife,  and  used  un¬ 
seemly  speech  and  behavior  to  her  ;  but  the  next  day  they 
begged  his  pardon  with  tears.  As  for  you,  said  he,  learn 
to  be  sober  for  the  future  ;  but  as  for  my  wife,  yesterday 
she  was  not  abroad  at  all.  Pie  designed  to  marry  another 
wife,  and  his  children  asked  him  whether  he  could  blame 
them  for  any  thing.  By  no  means,  said  he,  but  I  com¬ 
mend  you,  and  desire  to  have  more  such  children  as  you 


are. 


516 


AND  GREAT  COMMANDERS. 


Demetrius  Phalereus.  Demetrius  Phalereus  persuaded 
King  Ptolemy  to  get  and  study  such  books  as  treated  of 
government  and  conduct ;  for  those  things  are  written  in 
books  which  the  friends  of  kings  dare  not  advise. 

Lycurgus.  Lycurgus  the  Lacedaemonian  brought  long 
hair  into  fashion  among  his  countrymen,  saying  that  it 
rendered  those  that  were  handsome  more  beautiful,  and 
those  that  were  deformed  more  terrible.  To  one  that  ad¬ 
vised  him  to  set  up  a  democracy  in  Sparta,  Pray,  said  he, 
do  you  first  set  up  a  democracy  in  your  own  house.  He 
ordained  that  houses  should  be  built  with  saws  and  axes 
only,  thinking  they  would  be  ashamed  to  bring  plate, 
tapestry,  and  costly  tables  into  such  pitiful  houses.  He 
forbade  them  to  contend  at  boxing  or  in  the  double  contest 
of  boxing  and  wrestling,  that  they  might  not  accustom 
themselves  to  be  conquered,  no,  not  so  much  as  in  jest. 
He  forbade  them  also  to  war  often  against  the  same 
people,  lest  they  should  make  them  the  more  warlike. 
Accordingly,  many  years  after,  when  Agesilaus  was  wound¬ 
ed,  Antalcidas  told  him  the  Thebans  had  rewarded  him 
worthily  for  teaching  and  accustoming  them  to  war,  whether 
they  would  or  no. 

ChxVrillus.  King  Charillus,  being  asked  why  Lycurgus 
made  so  few  laws,  answered.  They  who  use  few  words  do 
not  need  many  laws.  When  one  of  the  Helots  behaved 
rather  too  insolently  towards  him.  By  Castor  and  Pollux, 
said  he,  I  would  kill  you,  were  I  not  angry.  To  one  that 
asked  him  why  the  Spartans  wore  long  hair.  Because,  said 
he,  of  all  ornaments  that  is  the  cheapest. 

Teleclus.  King  Teleclus,  when  his  brother  inveighed 
against  the  citizens  for  not  giving  him  that  respect  which 
they  did  to  the  king,  said  to  him,  No  wonder,  you  do  not 
know  how  to  bear  injury. 

Theopompus.  Theopompus,  to  one  that  showed  him  the 
walls  of  a  city,  and  asked  him  if  they  were  not  high  and 


THE  APOPHTHEGMS  OF  KINGS 


517 


beautiful,  answered,  No,  not  even  if  they  are  built  for 
women. 

Archidamus.  Archidamus,  in  the  Peloponnesian  war, 
when  his  allies  requested  him  to  appoint  them  their  quota 
of  tributes,  replied.  War  has^a  very  irregular  appetite. 

Brasidas.  Brasidas  caught  a  mouse  among  his  dried 
figs,  which  bit  him,  and  he  let  it  go.  Whereupon,  turning 
to  the  company.  Nothing,  said  he,  is  so  small  which  may 
not  save  itself,  if  it  have  the  valor  to  defend  itself 
against  its  aggressors.  In  a  fight  he  was  shot  through  his 
shield,  and  plucking  the  spear  out  of  his  wound,  with  the 
same  he  slew  his  adversary.  When  he  was  asked  how  he 
came  to  be  wounded.  My  shield,  said  he,  betrayed  me. 
It  was  his  fortune  to  be  slain  in  battle,  as  he  endeavored  to 
liberate  the  Grecians  that  were  in  Thrace.  These  sent  an 
embassy  to  Lacedaemon,  which  made  a  visit  to  his  mother, 
who  first  asked  them  whether  Brasidas  died  honorably. 
When  the  Thracians  praised  him,  and  affirmed  that  there 
would  never  be  such  another  man.  My  friends,  said  she, 
you  are  mistaken ;  Brasidas  indeed  was  a  valiant  man,  but 
Lacedaemon  hath  many  more  valiant  men  than  he. 

Agis.  King  Agis  said,  The  Lacedaemonians  are  not  wont 
to  ask  how  many,  but  where  The  enemy  are.  At  Mantinea 
he  was  advised  not  to  fight  the  enemy  that  exceeded  him 
in  number.  It  is  necessary,  said  he,  for  him  to  fight  with 
many,  who  would  rule  over  many.  The  Eleans  were  com¬ 
mended  for  managing  the  Olympic  games  honorably.  What 
wonder,  said  he,  do  they  do,  if  one  day  in  four  years  they 
do  justice  1  When  the  same  persons  enlarged  in  their 
commendation.  What  wonder  is  it,  said  he,  if  they  use 
justice  honorably,  which  is  an  honorable  thing  ?  To  a 
lewd  person,  that  often  asked  who  was  the  best  man  among 
the  Spartans,  he  ansAvered,  He  that  is  most  unlike  you. 
When  another  asked  what  was  the  number  of  the  Lacedae¬ 
monians,  —  Sufficient,  sa,id  he,  to  defend  themselves  from 


518 


AND  GREAT  COMMANDERS. 


wicked  men.  To  another  that  asked  him  the  same  ques¬ 
tion,  If  you  should  see  them  fight,  said  he,  you  would 
think  them  to  be  many. 

Lysander.  Dionysius  the  Tyrant  presented  Lysander’s 
daughters  with  rich  garments,  which  he  refused  to  accept, 
saying  he  feared  they  would  seem  more  deformed  in  them. 
To  such  as  blamed  him  for  managing  much  of  his  affairs 
by  stratagems,  which  was  unworthy  of  Hercules  from 
whom  he  was  descended,  he  answered.  Where  the  lion’s 
skin  will  not  reach,  it  must  be  pieced  with  the  fox’s.  When 
the  citizens  of  Argos  seemed  to  make  out  a  better  title  than 
the  Lacedaemonians  to  a  country  that  was  in  dispute  be¬ 
tween  them,  drawing  his  sword.  He  that  is  master  of  this, 
said  he,  can  best  dispute  about  bounds  of  countries.  When 
the  Lacedaemonians  delayed  to  assault  the  walls  of  Corinth, 
and  he  saw  a  hare  leap  out  of  the  trench  ;  Do  you  fear,  said 
he,  such  enemies  as  these,  whose  laziness  suffers  hares  to 
sleep  on  their  Avails  ?  To  an  inhabitant  of  Megara,  that  in 
a  parley  spoke  confidently  unto  him,  Your  words,  said  he, 
Avant  the  breeding  of  the  city. 

Agesilaus.  Agesilaus  said  that  the  inhabitants  of  Asia 
Avere  bad  freemen  and  good  servants.  When  they  Avere  Avont 
to  call  the  king  of  Persia  the  Great  King,  Wherein,  said  he, 
is  he  greater  than  I,  if  he  is  not  more  just  and  Avise  than  I  am] 
Being  asked  A\diich  Avas  better,  valor  or  justice,  he  ansAvered, 
We  should  have  no  need  of  valor,  if  Ave  Avere  all  just. 
When  he  broke  up  his  camp  suddenly  by  night  in  the  ene¬ 
my’s  country,  and  saAV  a  lad  he  loved  left  behind  by  reason 
of  sickness,  and  Aveeping,  It  is  a  hard  thing,  said  he,  to  be 

pitiful  and  Avise  at  the  same  time.  Menecrates  the  phy- 

• 

sician,  surnamed  Jupiter,  inscribed  a  letter  to  him  thus: 
Menecrates  Jupiter  to  King  Agesilaus  wisheth  joy.  And 
he  returned  in  ansAver :  King  Agesilaus  to  Menecrates ' 
Avisheth  his  Avits.  When  the  Lacedaemonians  overcame 
the  Athenians  and  their  confederates  at  Corinth,  and  he 


THE  APOPHTHEGMS  OF  KINGS 


519 


heard  the  number  of  the  enemies  that  were  slain ;  Alas, 
said  he,  for  Greece,  who  hath  destroyed  so  many  of  her  men 
as  were  enough  to  have  conquered  all  the  barbarians  to¬ 
gether.  He  had  received  an  answer  from  the  Oracle  of 
Jupiter  in  Olympia,  which  was  to  his  satisfaction.  After¬ 
wards  the  Ephori  bade  him  consult  Apollo  in  the  same 
case  ;  and  to  Delphi  he  went,  and  asked  that  God  whether 
he  was  of  the  same  mind  with  his  father.  He  interceded 
for  one  of  his  friends  with  Idrieus  of  Caria,  and  wrote  to 
-  him  thus :  If  Nicias  has  not  offended,  set  him  free ;  but 
if  he  is  guilty,  set  him  free  for  my  sake ;  by  all  means 
set  him  free.  Being  exhorted  to  hear  one  that  imitated 
the  voice  of  a  nightingale,  I  have  often,  said  he,  heard 
nightingales  themselves.  The  law  ordained  that  such  as 
ran  away  should  be  disgraced.  After  the  fight  at  Leuctra, 
the  Ephori,  seeing  the  city  void  of  men,  were  willing 
to  dispense  with  that  disgrace,  and  empowered  Agesilaus 
to  make  a  law  to  that  purpose.  But  he  standing  in  the 
midst  commanded  that  after  the  next  day  the  laws  should 
remain  in  force  as  before.  He  was  sent  to  assist  the  king' 
of  Egypt,  with  whom  he  was  besieged  by  enemies  that 
outnumbered  his  own  forces ;  and  when  they  had  en¬ 
trenched  their  camp,  the  king  commanded  him  to  go  out 
and  fight  them.  Since,  said  he,  they  intend  to  make  them¬ 
selves  equal  to  us,  I  will  not  hinder  them.  When  the 
trench  was  almost  finished,  he  drew  up  his  men  in  the  void 
space,  and  so  fighting  with  equal  advantage  he  overcame 
them.  When  he  was  dying,  he  charged  his  friends  that 
no  fiction  or  counterfeit  (so  he  called  statues)  should  be 
made  for  him  ;  Eor  if,  said  he,  I  have  done  any  honorable 
exploit,  that  is  my  monument ;  but  if  I  have  done  none,  all 
your  statues  will  signify  nothing. 

Archidamus.  When  Archidamus,  the  son  of  Agesilaus, 
beheld  a  dart  to  be  shot  from  an  engine  newly  brought  out 
of  Sicily,  he  cried  out,  O  Hercules !  the  valor  of  man  is 
at  an  end. 


520 


AND  GREAT  COMMANDERS. 


Agis  the  Younger.  Demades  said,  the  Laconians’ 
swords  were  so  small,  that  jugglers  might  swallow  them. 
That  may  be,  said  Agis,  but  the  Lacedaemonians  can  reach 
their  enemies  very  well  with  them.  The  Ephori  ordered 
him  to  deliver  his  soldiers  to  a  traitor.  I  will  not,  said 
he,  entrust  him  with  strangers,  who  betrayed  his  own 
men. 

Cleomenes.  To  one  that  promised  to  give  him  hardy 
cocks,  that  would  die  fighting.  Prithee,  said  he,  give  me 
cocks  that  will  kill  fighting. 

Paedaretus.  Paedaretus,  when  he  was  not  chosen 
among  the  Three  Hundred  (which  was  the  highest  office 
and  honor  in  the  city),  went  away  cheerfully  and  smiling, 
saying,  he  Avas  glad  if  the  city  had  three  hundred  better 
citizens  than  himself. 

Damonidas.  Damonidas,  being  placed  by  him  that  or¬ 
dered  the  chorus  in  the  last  rank  of  it,  said :  Well  done, 
you  have  found  a  way  to  make  this  place  also  honorable. 

Nicostratus.  Archidamus,  general  of  the  Argives,  en¬ 
ticed  Nicostratus  to  betray  a  fort,  by  promises  of  a  great 
sum,  and ^ the  marriage  of  what  Lacedaemonian  lady  he 
pleased  except  the  king’s  daughters.  He  ansAvered,  that 
Archidamus  Avas  none  of  the  offspring  of  Hercules,  far  he 
went  about  to  punish  wicked  men,  but  Archidamus  to  cor¬ 
rupt  honest  men. 

Eudaeaionidas.  Eudaemonidas  beholding  Xenocrates, 
AAffien  he  Avas  old,  in  the  Academy  reading  philosophy  to 
his  scholars,  and  being  told  he  was  in  quest  of  virtue, 
asked:  And  Avhen  does  he  intend  to  practise  it?  Another 
time,  Avhen  he  heard  a  philosopher  arguing  that  only  the 
Avise  man  can  be  a  good  general.  This  is  a  Avonderful 
speech,  said  he,  but  he  that  saith  it  never  heard  the  sound 
of  trumpets. 

Antiochus.  Antiochus  being  Ephor,  Avhen  he  heard 
Philip  had  given  the  Messenians  a  country,  asked  Avhether 


THE  APOPHTHEGMS  OF  KINGS 


521 


he  had  granted  them  that  they  should  be  victorious  when 
they  fought  for  that  country. 

Antalcidas.  To  an  Athenian  that  called  the  Lacedae¬ 
monians  unlearned.  Therefore  we  alone,  said  Antalcidas, 
have  learned  no  mischief  of  you.  To  another  Athenian 
that  told  him.  Indeed,  we  have  often  driven  you  from  the 
Cephissus,  he  replied.  But  we  never  drove  you  from 
the  Eurotas.  When  a  Sophist  was  beginning  to  recite 
the  praise  of  Hercules ;  And  who,  said  he,  ever  spoke 
against  him  ]  ' 

Epaminondas.  "No  pknic  fear  ever  surprised  the  army 
of  the  Thebans  while  Epaminondas  was  their  general. 
He  said,  to  die  in  war  was  the  most  honorable  death, 
and  the  bodies  of  armed  men  ought  to  be  exercised, 
not  as  Avrestlers,  but  in  a  warlike  manner.  Where¬ 
fore  he  hated  fat  men,  and  dismissed  one  of  them,  say¬ 
ing,  that  three  or  four  shields  would  scarce  serve  to  secure 
his  bellv,  which  would  not  suffer  him  to  see  his  members. 
He  was  so  frugal  in  his  diet  that,  being  invited  by  a 
neighbor  to  supper,  and  finding  there  dishes,  oint¬ 
ments,  and  junkets  in  abundance,  he  departed  imme¬ 
diately,  saying :  I  thought  you  ^vere  sacrificing,  and  not 
displaying  your  luxury.  When  his  cook  gave  an  account 
to  his  colleagues  of  the  charges  for  several  days,  he  was 
offended  only  at  the  quantity  of  oil;  and  when  his  col- 
leeigues  wondered  at  him,  I  am  not,  said  he,  troubled  at 
the  charge,  but  that  so  much  oil  should  be  received  into 
my  body.  When  the  city  kept  a  festival,  and  all  gave 
themselves  to  banquets  and  drinking,  he  was  met  by  one 
of  his  acquaintance  unadorned  and  in  a  thoughtful  posture. 
He  w^ondering  asked  him  why  he  of  all  men  •  should  ^valk 
about  in  that  manner.  That  all  of  you,  said  he,  may  be 
drunk  and  revel  securely-  An  ill  man,  that  had  committed 
no  great  fault,  he  refused  to  discliarge  at  the  request  of 
Pelopidas ;  when  his  miss  entreated  for  him,  he  dismissed 


522 


AND  GREAT  COMMANDERS. 


him,  saying ;  Whores  are  fitting  to  receive  such  presents, 
and  not  generals.  The  Lacedaemonians  invaded  the 
Thebans,  and  oracles  were  brought  to  Thebes,  some  that 
promised  victory,  others  that  foretold  an  overthrow.  He 
ordered  those  to  be  placed  on  the  right  hand  of  the  judg¬ 
ment  seat,  and  these  on  the  left.  When  they  were  placed 
accordingly,  he  rose  up  and  said :  If  you  will  obey  your 
commanders  and  unanimously  resist  your  enemies,  these 
are  your  oracles,  —  pointing  to  the  better ;  but  if  you 
play  the  cowards,' those,  —  pointing  to  the  worser.  An¬ 
other  time,  as  he  drew  nigh  to  the  enemy,  it  thundered, 
and  some  that  were  about  him  asked  him  what  he  thought 
the  Gods  would  signify  by  it.  They  signify,  said  he,  that 
the  enemy  is  thunderstruck  and  demented,  since  he  pitches 
his  camp  in  a  bad  place,  when  he  was  nigh  to  a  better. 
Of  all  the  happy  and  prosperous  events  that  befell  him, 
he  said  that  in  this  he  took  most  satisfaction,  that  he  over¬ 
came  the  Lacedaemonians  at  Leuctra  while  his  father  and 
mother,  that  begot  him,  were  living.  Whereas  he  was 
wont  to  appear  with  his  body  anointed  and  a  cheerful 
countenance,  the  day  after  that  fight  he  came  abroad  meanly 
habited  and  dejected  ;  and  when  his  friends  asked  him 
whether  any  misfortune  had  befallen  him.  No,  said  he,  but 
yesterday  I  was  pleased  more  than  became  a  wise  man,  and 
therefore  to-day  I  chastise  that  immoderate  joy.  Perceiv¬ 
ing  the  Spartans  concealed  their  disasters,  and  desiring  to 
discover  the  greatness  of  their  loss,  he  did  not  give  them 
leave  to  take  away  their  dead  altogether,  but  allowed  each 
city  to  bury  its  own ;  whereby  it  appeared  that  above  a 
thousand  Lacedaemonians  were  slain.  Jason,  monarch  of 
Thessaly,  was  at  Thebes  as  their  confederate,  and  sent  two 
thousand  pieces  of  gold  to  Epaminondas,  then  in  great 
want ;  but  he  refused  the  gold,  and  when  he  saw  Jason,  he 
said :  You  are  the  first  to  commit  violence.  And  borrow¬ 
ing  fifty  drachms  of  a  citizen,  with  that  money  to  supply 


THE  APOPHTHEGMS  OF  KINGS 


523 


his  army  he  invaded  Peloponnesus.  Another  time,  when 
the  Persian  king  sent  him  thirty  thousand  darics,  he  chid 
Diomedon  severely,  asking  him  whether  he  sailed  so  far  to 
bribe  Epaminondas ;  and  bade  him  tell  the  king,  as  long 
as  he  wished  the  prosperity  of  the  Thebans,  Epaminondas 
would  be  his  friend  gratis,  but  when  he  was  otherwise 
minded,  his  enemy.  When  the  Argives  were  confederates 
with  the  Thebans,  the  Athenian  ambassadors  then  in 
Arcadia  complained  of  both,  and  Callistratus  the  orator 
reproached  the  cities  with  Orestes  and  Oedipus.  But 
Epaminondas  stood  up  and  said:  We  confess  there  hath 
been  one  amongst  us  that  killed  his  father,  and  among  the 
Argives  one  that  killed  his  mother ;  but  we  banished  those 
that  did  such  things,  and  the  Athenians  entertained  them. 
To  some  Spartans  that  accused  the  Thebans  of  many  and 
great  crimes.  These  indeed,  said  he,  are  they  that  have  put 
an  end  to  your  short  dialect.  The  Athenians  made  friend¬ 
ship  and  alliance  with  Alexander  the  tyrant  of  Pherae,  who 
was  an  enemy  to  the  Thebans,  and  who  had  promised  to 
furnish  them  with  flesh  at  half  an  obol  a  pound.  And  we, 
said  Epaminondas,  will  supply  them  with  wood  to  that  flesh 
gratis ;  for  if  they  grow  meddlesome,  w^e  will  make  bold 
to  cut  all  the  wood  in  their  country  for  them.  Being  de¬ 
sirous  to  keep  the  Boeotians,  that  were  grown  rusty  by 
idleness,  always  in  arms,  when  he  was  chosen  their  chief 
magistrate,  he  used  to  exhort  them,  saying :  Yet  consider 
what  you  do,  my  friends  ;  for  if  I  am  your  general,  you 
must  be  my  soldiers.  He  called  their  country,  which  was 
plain  and  open,  the  stage  of  war,  which  they  could  keep 
no  longer  than  their  hands  were  upon  their  shields.  Cha- 
brias,  having  slain  a  few  Thebans  near  Corinth,  that  en¬ 
gaged  too  hotly  near  the  walls,  erected  a  trophy,  which 
Epaminondas  laughed  at,  saying,  it  was  not  a  trophy,  but 
a  statue  of  Trivia,  which  they  usually  placed  in  the  high¬ 
way  before  the  gates.  One  told  him  that  the  Athenians 


524' 


AND  GREAT  COMMANDERS. 


had  sent  an  army  into  Peloponnesus  adorned  with  new 
armor.  What  then'?  said  lie,  doth  Antigenidas  sigh  because 
Telles  hath  got  new  pipes'?  (Now  Antigenidas  was  an 
excellent  piper,  but  Telles  a  vile  one.,)  Understanding  his 
shield-bearer  had  taken  a  great  deal  of  money  from  a  pris¬ 
oner,  Come,  said  he,  give  me  the  shield,  and  buy  you  a 
victualling-house  to  live  in ;  for  now  you  are  grown  rich 
and  Avealthy,  you  will  not  hazard  your  life  as  you  did  for- 
merlv.  Bein"  asked  whether  he  thous'ht  himself  or  Cha- 

O  O 

brias  or  Iphicrates  the  better  general.  It  is  hard,  said  he, 
to  judge  while  we  live.  After  he  returned  out  of  Laconia, 
he  was  tried  for  his  life,  with  his  fellow-commanders,  for 
continuing  Boeotarch  four  months  longer  than  the  law 
allowed.  He  bade  the  other  commanders  lay  the  blame 
upon  him,  as  if  he  had  forced  them,  and  for  himself,  he 
said,  his  actions  were  his  best  speech;  but  if  anything  at 
all  were  to  be  answered  to  the  judges,  he  entreated  them, 
if  they  put  him  to  death,  to  write  his  fault  upon  his  monu¬ 
ment,  that  the  Grecians  might  know  that  Epaminondas 
compelled  the  Thebans  against  their  will  to  plunder  and  fire 
Laconia,  —  which  in  five  hundred  years  before  had  never 
suffered  the  like,  —  to  build  Messene  two  hundred  and 
thirty  years  after  it  was  sacked,  to  unite  the  iVrcadians, 
and  to  restore  liberty  to  Greece ;  for  those  things  were 
done  in  that  expedition.  Whereupon  the  judges  arose 
with  great  laughter,  and  refused  even  to  receive  the  votes 
against  him.  In  his  last  fight,  being  wounded  and  carried 
into  his  tent,  he  called  for  Diaphantes  and  after  him  for 
lollidas ;  and  when  he  heard  they  were  slain,  he  advised 
the  Thebans  to  make  their  peace  with  the  enemy,  since 
they  had  never  a  general  left  them ;  as  by  the  event  proved 
true.  So  well  did  he  understand  his  countrymen. 

Pelopidas.  Pelopidas,  Epaminondas’s  colleague,  when 
.his  friends  told  him  that  he  neglected  a  necessary  business, 
that  was  the  gathering  of  money,  replied :  In  good  deed 


THE  APOPHTHEGMS  OE  ifiNGS. 


525 


money  is  necessary  for  this  Nicomedas,  pointing  to  a  lame 
man  that  could  not  go.  As  he  was  going  out  to  fight,  his 
wife  heseeched  him  to  have  a  care  of  himself.  To  others 
you  may  give  this  advice,  said  he ;  but  a  commander  and 
general  you  must  advise  that  he  should  save  his  country¬ 
men.  A  soldier  told  him.  We  are  fallen  among  the  ene¬ 
mies.  Said  he.  How  are  we  fallen  among  them,  more  than, 
they  among  us  ?  When  Alexander,  the  tyrant  of  Pherae, 
broke  his  faith  and  cast  him  into  prison,  he  reviled  him  ; 
and  when  the  other  told  him  he  did  but  hasten  his  death, 
That  is  my. design,  said  he,  that  the  Thebans  may  be  exas¬ 
perated  against  you,  and  be  revenged  on  you  the  sooner. 
Thebe,  the  wife  of  the  tyrant,  came  to  him,  and  told  him 
she  wondered  to  see  him  so  merry  in  chains.  He  answered, 
he  wondered  more  at  her,  that  she  could  endure  Alexan¬ 
der  without  being  chained.  When  Epaminondas  caused 
him  to  be  released,  he  said  :  I  thank  xHexander,  for  I  have 
now  found  by  trial  that  I  have  not  only  courage  to  fight, 
but  to  die. 


ROMAN  APOPHTHEGMS. 

M.’  CuRius.  When  some  blamed  M.’  Curius  for  distribut¬ 
ing  but  a  small  part  of  a  country  he  took  from  the  enemy, 
and  preserving  the  greater  part  for  the  commonwealth,  he 
prayed  there  might  be  no  Roman  who  would  think  that 
estate  little  which  was  enough  to  maintain  him.  The 
Samnites  after  an  overthrow  came  to  him  to  offer  him 
gold,  and  found  him  boiling  rape-roots.  He  answered  the 
Samnites  that  he  that  could  sup  so  wanted  no  gold,  and 
that  he  had  rather  rule  over  those  Avho  had  gold  than  have 
it  himself. 


526 


AND  GREAT  COMMANDERS. 


C.  Fabricius.  C.  Fabricius,  hearing  Pyrrhus  had  over¬ 
thrown  the  Pomans,  told  Labienus,  it  was  Pyrrhus,  not 
the  Epirots,  that  beat  the  Romans.  Fie  went  to  treat 
about  exchange  of  prisoners  with  Pyrrhus,  who  offered 
him  a  great  sum  of  gold,  which  he  refused.  The  next  day 
Pyrrhus  commanded  a  very  large  elephant  should  secretly 
be  placed  behind  Fabricius,  and  discover  himself  by  roar¬ 
ing  ;  whereupon  Fabricius  turned  and  smiled,  saying,  I  was 
not  astonished  either  at  your  gold  yesterday  or  at  your  beast 
to-day.  Pyrrhus  invited  him  to  tarry  with  him,  and  to 
accept  of  the  next  command  under  him :  That,  said  he, 
will  be  inconvenient  for  you ;  for,  when  the  Epirots  know 
us  both,  they  will  rather  have  me  for  their  king  than  you. 
When  Fabricius  was  consul,  Pyrrhus’s  physician  sent  him 
a  letter,  wherein  he  promised  him  that,  if  he  commanded 
him,  he  would  poison  Pyrrhus.  Fabricius  sent  the  letter 
to  Pyrrhus,  and  bade  him  conclude  that  he  was  a  very  bad 
judge  both  of  friends  and  enemies.  The  plot  was  discov¬ 
ered  ;  Pyrrhus  hanged  his  physician,  and  sent  the  Roman 
prisoners  he  had  taken  without  ransom  as  a  present  to  Fa¬ 
bricius.  He,  however,  refused  to  accept  them,  but  returned 
the  like  number,  lest  he  might  seem  to  receive  a  reward. 
Neither  did  he  disclose  the  conspiracy  out  of  kindness  to 
Pyrrhus,  but  that  the  Romans  might  not  seem  to  kill  him 
by  treachery,  as  if  they  despaired  to  conquer  him  in  open 
war. 

Fabius  Maximus.  Fabius  Maximus  would  not  fight, 
but  chose  to  spin  away  the  time  with  Hannibal,  —  who 
wanted  both  money  and  provision  for  his  army,  —  by 
pursuing  and  facing  him  in  rocky  and  mountainous  places. 
When  many  laughed  at  him  and  called  him  Hannibal’s 
schoolmaster,  he  took  little  notice  of  them,  but  pursued 
his  own  design,  and  told  his  friends  :  He  that  is  afraid  of 
scoffs  and  reproaches  is  more  a  coward  than  he  that 
flies  from  the  enemy.  When  Minucius,  his  fellow-consul, 


THE  APOPHTHEGMS  OF  KINGS 


527 


upon  routing  a  party  of  the  enemy,  was  highly  extolled  as 
a  man  worthy  of  Eome ;  I  am  more  afraid,  said  he,  of 
Minucius’s  success  than  of  his  misfortune.  And  not  Ions: 

o 

after  he  fell  into  an  ambush,  and  was  in  danger  of  perish¬ 
ing  with  his  forces,  until  Fabius  succored  him,  slew  many 
of  the  enemy,  and  brought  him  off.  Whereupon  Hannibal 
told  his  friends :  Did  I  not  often  presage  that  cloud  on  the 
hills  Avould  some  time  or  other  break  upon  us  1  After  the 
city  received  the  great  overthrow  at  Cannae,  he  was  chosen 
consul  with  Marcellus,  a  daring  person  and  much  desirous 
to  fight  Hannibal,  whose  forces,  if  nobody  fought  him,  he 
hoped  would  shortly  disperse  and  be  dissolved.  Therefore 
Hannibal  said,  he  feared  fighting  Marcellus  less  than 
Fabius  who  would  not  fight.  He  was  informed  of  a 
Jvucanian  soldier  that  frequently  wandered  out  of  the 
camp  by  night  after  a  woman  he  loved,  but  otherwise  an 
admirable  soldier ;  he  caused  his  mistress  to  be  seized 
privately  and  brought  to  him.  When  she  came,  he  sent 
for  the  soldier  and  told  him  :  It  is  known  vou  lie  out 
a  nights,  contrary  to  the  law  ;  but  your  former  good  be- 
Iravior  is  not  forgotten,  therefore  your  faults  are  forgiven 
to  your  merits.  Henceforwards  you  shall  tarry  with  me, 
for  I  have  your  surety.  And  he  brought  out  the  woman 
to  him.  Hannibal  kept  Tarentum  with  a  garrison,  all 
but  the  castle ;  and  Fabius  drew  the  enemy  far  from  it, 
and  by  a  stratagem  took  the  town  and  plundered  it. 
When  his  secretary  asked  what  was  his  pleasure  as  to 
the  holy  images.  Let  us  leave,  said  he,  the  Tarentines 
their  offended  Gods.  When  M.  Livius,  who  kept  a 
garrison  in  the  castle,  said  he  took  Tarentum  by  his 
assistance,  others  laughed  at  him  ;  but  said  Fabius,  You 
say  true,  for  if  you  had  not  lost  the  city,  I  had  not  re¬ 
took  it.  When  he  was  ancient,  his  son  was  consul,  and 
as  he  was  discharging  his  office  publicly  with  many 
attendants,  he  met  him  on  horseback.  The  young  man 


528 


AND  GREAT  COMMANDERS. 


sent  a  sergeant  to  command  him  to  alight ;  when  others 
were  at  a  stand,  Fabius  presently  alighted,  and  running 
faster  than  for  his  age  might  be  expected,  embraced  his 
son.  Well  done,  son,  said  he,  I  see  you  are  wise,  and 
know  whom  you  govern,  and  the  grandeur  of  the  office 
you  have  undertaken. 

SciPio  THE  Elder.  Scipio  the  Elder  spent  on  his 
studies  what  leisure  the  campaign  and  government  would 
allow  him,  saying,  that  he  did  most  when  he  w^as  idle. 
When  he  took  Carthage  by  storm,  some  soldiers  took 
prisoner  a  very  beautiful  virgin,  and  came  and  presented 
her  to  him.  I  would  receive  her,  said  he,  with  all 
my  heart,  if  T  were  a  private  man  and  not  a  governor. 
While  he  was  besieging  the  .city  of  Badia,  wherein 
appeared  above  all  a  temple  of  Venus,  he'  ordered 
appearances  to  be  given  for  actions  to  be  tried  before 
him  within  three  days  in  that  temple  of  Venus  ;  and  he 
took  the  city,  and  was  as  good  as  his  word.  One  asked 
him  in  Sicily,  on  what  confidence  he  presumed  to  pass 
with  his  navy  against  Carthage.  He  showed  him  three 
hundred  disciplined  men  in  armor,  and  pointed  to  a 
high  tower  on  the  shore ;  There  is  not  one  of  these', 
said  he,  that  would  not  at  my  command  go  to  the  top 
of  that  tower,  and  cast  himself  down  headlong.  Over 
he  went,  landed,  and  burnt  the  enemy’s  camp,  and  the 
Carthaginians  sent  to  him,  and  covenanted  to  surrender 
their  elephants,  ships,  and  a  sum  of  money.  But  when 
Hannibal  was  sailed  back  from  Italy,  their  reliance  on 
him  made  them  repent  of  those  conditions.  This  coming 
to  Scipio’s  ear.  Nor  will  I,  said  he,  stand  to  the  agreement 
if  they  will,  unless  they  pay  me  five  thousand  talents  more 
for  sending  for  Hannibal.  The  Carthaginians,  when  they 
were  utterly  overthrown,  sent  ambassadors  to  make  peace 
and  league  with  him  ;  he  bade  those  that  came  return  im¬ 
mediately,  as  refusing  to  hear  them  before  they  brought 


THE  APOPHTHEGMS  OF  KINGS 


529 


L.  Terentius  with  them,  a  good  man,  whom  the  Carthagi¬ 
nians  had  taken  prisoner.  When  they  brought  him,  he 
placed  him  in  the  council  next  himself,  on  the  judgment- 
seat,  and  then  he  transacted  with  the  Carthaginians  and 
put  an  .end  to  the  war.  And  Terentius  followed  him  when 
he  triumphed,  wearing  the  cap  of  one  that  was  made  free  ; 
and  when  he  died,  Scipio  gave  wine  mingled  with  honey  to 
those  that  were  at  the  funeral,  and  performed  other  funeral 
rites  in  his  honor.  But  these  things  were  done  afterwards. 
King  Antiochus,  after  the  Eomans  invaded  him,  sent  to 
Scipio  in  Asia  for  peace  ;  That  should  have  been  done 
before,  said  he,  not  now  when  you  have  received  a  bridle 
and  a  rider.  The  senate  decreed  him  a  sum  of  money  out 
of  the  treasury,  but  the  treasurers  refused  to  open  it  on 
that  day.  Then,  said  he,  I  wdll  open  it  myself,  for  the 
moneys  with  which  I  filled  it  caused  it  to  be  shut. 
When  Paetilius  and  Quintus  accused  him  of  many  crimes 
before  the  people,  —  On  this  very  day,  said  he,  I  conquered 
Hannibal  and  Carthage  ;  I  for  my  part  am  going  with 
my  crown  on  to  the  Capitol  to  sacrifice ;  and  let  him  that 
pleaseth  stay  and  pass  his  vote  upon  me.  Having  thus 
said,  he  went  his  way  ;  and  the  people  followed  him,  leav¬ 
ing  his  accusers  declaiming  to  themselves. 

T.  Quinctius.  T.  Quinctius  was  eminent  so  early,  that 
before  he  had  been  tribune,  praetor,  or  aedile,  he  was 
chosen  consul.  Being  sent  as  general  against  Philip,  he 
was  persuaded  to  come  to  a  conference  with  him.  And 
when  Philip  demanded  hostages  of  him,  because  he  was 
accompanied  with  many  Eomans  while  the  Macedonians 
had  none  but  himself ;  You,  said  Quinctius,  have  created, 
this  solitude  for  yourself,  by  killing  your  friends  and  kin¬ 
dred.  Ilaving  overcome  Philip  in  battle,  he  proclaimed 
in  the  Isthmian  games  that  the  Grecians  were  free  and 
to  be  governed  by  their  own  laws.  And  the  Grecians 
redeemed  all  the  Eoman  prisoners  that  in  Hannibal’s  days 


530 


AND  GREAT  COMMANDERS. 


were  sold  for  slaves  in  Greece,  each  of  them  with  two 

hundred  drachms,  and  made  him  a  present  of  them ;  and 

they  followed  him  in  Rome  in  his  triumph,  wearing  caps 

on  their  heads  such  as  they  use  to  wear  who  are  made  free. 

lie  advised  the  Achaeans,  who  designed  to  make  war 

upon  the  Island  Zacynthus,  to  take  heed  lest,  like  a  tortoise, 

they  should  endanger  their  head  by  thrusting  it  out  of 

Peloponnesus.  When  King  Antiochus  was  coming  upon 

Greece  with  great  forces,  and  all  men  trembled  at  the 

report  of  his  numbers  and  equipage,  he  told  the  Achaeans 
\ 

this  story :  Once  I  dined  with  a  friend  at  Chalcis,  and 
when  I  wondered  at  the  variety  of  dishes,  said  my  host, 
“  All  these  are  pork,  only  in  dressing  and  sauces  they  dif¬ 
fer.”  And  therefore  be  not  you  amazed  at  the  king’s 
forces,  when  you  hear  talk  of  spearmen  and  men-at-arms 

V 

and  choice  footmen  and  horse-archers,  for  all  these  are  but 
Syrians,  with  some  little  difference  in  their  weapons.  Phil- 
opoemen,  general  of  the  Achaeans,  had  good  store  of 
horses  and  men-at-arms,  but  could  not  tell  what  to  do  for 
money  ;  and  Quinctius  played  upon  him,  saying,  Philopoe- 
men  had  arms  and  legs,  but  no  belly  ;  and  it  happened 
his  body  was  much  after  that  shape. 

Cneus  Domitius.  Cneus  Domitius,  —  whom  Scipio  the 
Great  sent  in  his  stead  to  attend  his  brother  Lucius  in  the 
war  against  Antiochus,  —  when  he  had  viewed  the  ene¬ 
my’s  army,  and  the  commanders  that  were  with  him  ad¬ 
vised  him  to  set 'upon  them  presently,  said  to  them:  We 
shall  scarce  have  time  enough  now  to  kill  so  many  thou¬ 
sands,  plunder  their  baggage,  return  to  our  camp,  and 
refresh  ourselves  too ;  but  we  shall  have  time  enough  to 
do  all  this  to-morrow.  The  next  day  he  engaged  them, 
and  slew  fifty  thousand  of  the  enemy. 

Publius  Licinius.  Publius  Licinius,  consul  and  general, 
being  worsted  in  a  horse  engagement  by  Perseus  king  of 
Macedon,  with  what  were  slain  and  what  were  took  pris- 


THE  APOPHTHEGMS  OF  KINGS  531 

I 

oners,  lost  two  thousand  eight  hundred  men.  Presently 
after  the  fight,  Perseus  sent  ambassadors  to  make  peace 
and  league  with  him  ;  and  although  he  was  overcome,  yet 
he  advised  the  conqueror  to  submit  himself  and  his  affairs 
to  the  pleasure  of  the  Romans. 

Paul  us  Aemilius.  Paulus  Aemilius,  when  he  stood  for 
his  second  consulship,  was  rejected.  Afterwards,  the  war 
with  Perseus  and  the  Macedonians  being  prolonged  by  the 
ignorance  and  effeminacy  of  the  commanders,  they  chose 
him  consul.  I  thank,  said  he,  the  people  for  nothing ; 
they  choose  me  general,  not  because  I  want  the  office,  but 
because  they  want  an  officer.  As  he  returned  from  the 
hall  to  his  own  house,  and  found  his  little  daughter  Tertia 
weeping,  he  asked  her  what  she  cried  for?  Perseus, 
said  she  (so  her  little  dog  was  called),  is  dead.  Luckily 
hast  thou  spoken,  girl,  said*  he,  and  I  accept  the  omen. 
When  he  found  in  the  camp  much  confident  prating  among 
the  soldiers,  who  pretended  to  advise  him  and  busy  them¬ 
selves  as  if  they  had  been  all  officers,  he  bade  them  be  quiet 
and  only  whet  their  swords,  and  leave  other  things  to  his 
care. 

He  ordered  night-guards  should  be  kept  without  swords 
or  spears,  that  they  might  resist  sleep,  when  they  had 
nothing  wherewith  to  resist  the  enemy.  He  invaded  Mace¬ 
donia  by  the  way  of  the  mountains  ;  and  seeing  the  enemy 
drawn  up,  when  Nasica  advised  him  to  set  upon 'them  pres¬ 
ently,  he  replied :  So  I  should,  if  I  were  of  your  age ;  but 
long  experience  forbids  me,  after  a  march,  to  fight  an  army 
marshalled  regularly.  Having  overcome  Perseus,  he  feasted 
his  friends  for  joy  of  the  victory,  saying,  it  required  the 
same  skill  to  make  an  army  very  terrible  to  the  enemy,  and 
a  banquet  very  acceptable  to  our  friends.  When  Perseus 
was  taken  prisoner,  he  told  Paulus  that  he  would  not  be 
led  in  triumph.  That,  said  he,  is  as  you  please,  —  mean¬ 
ing  he  might  kill  himself.  He  found  an  infinite  quantity 


532 


AND  GREAT  COMMANDERG. 


of  money,  but  kept  none  for  himself ;  only  to  his  son-in* 
law  Tubero  he  gave  a  silver  bowl  that  weighed  five  pounds, 
as  a  reward  of  his  valor ;  and  that,  they  say,  was  the  first 
piece  of  plate  that  belonged  to  the  Aemilian  family.  Of 
the  four  sons  he  had,  he  parted  with  two  that  were  adopted 
into  other  families  ;  and  of  the  two  that  lived  with  him, 
one  of  them  died  at  the  age  of  fourteen  years,  but  five 
days  before  his  triumph ;  and  five  days  after  the  triumph, 
at  the  age  of  twelve  years  died  the  other.  When  the 
people  that  met  him  bemoaned  and  compassionated  his 
calamities.  Now,  said  he,  my  fears  and  jealousies  for  my 
country  are,  over,  since  Fortune  hath  discharged  her  revenge 
for  our  success  on  my  house,  and  I  have  paid  for  all. 

Cato  the  Elder.  ,Cato  the  Elder,  in  a  speech  to  the 
people,  inveighed  against  luxury  and  intemperance.  How 
hard,  said  he,  is  it  to  persuade  the  belly,  that  hath  no 
ears  ]  And  he  wondered  how  that  city  was  preserved 
wherein  a  fish  was  sold  for  more  than  an  ox !  Once  he 
scoffed  at  the  prevailing  imperiousness  of  women:  All 
other  men,  said  he,  govern  their  wives ;  but  we  command 
all  other  men,  and  our  wives  us.  He  said  he  had  rather 
.  not  be  rewarded  for  his  good  deeds  than  not  punished  for 
his  evil  deeds ;  and  at  any  time  he  could  pardon  all  other 
offenders  besides  himself.  He  instigated  the  magistrates 
to  punish  all  offenders,  saying,  that  they  that  did  not  pre¬ 
vent  crimes  when  they  might  encouraged  them.  Of  young 
men,  he  liked  them  that  blushed  better  than  those  who 
looked  pale  ;  and  hated  a  soldier  that  moved  his  hands  as 
he  walked  and  his  feet  as  he  fought,  and  whose  sneeze 
was  louder  than  his  outcry  when  he  charged.  He  said,  he 
was  the  worst  governor  who  could  not  govern  himself.  It 
was  his  opinion  that  every  one  ought  especially  to  rever¬ 
ence  himself ;  for  every  one  was  always  in  his  own  pres¬ 
ence.  When  he  saw  many  had  their  statues  set  up,  I  had 
rather,  says  he,  men  should  ask  wdiy  Cato  had  no  statue, 


THE  APOPHTHEGMS  OF  KINGS 


533 


than  why  he  had  one.  He  exhorted  those  in  power  to  be 
sparing  of  exercising  their  power,  that  they  might  continue 
in  power.  They  that  separate  honor  from  virtue,  said  he, 
separate  virtue  from  youth.  A  governor,  said  he,  or  judge 
ought  to  do  justice  without  entreaty,  not  injustice  upon  en¬ 
treaty.  He  said,  that  injustice,  if  it  did  not  endanger  the 
authors,  endangered  all  besides.  He  requested  old  men 
not  to  add  the  disgrace  of  wickedness  to  old  age,  which 
was  accompanied  with  many  other  evils.  He  thought  an 
angry  man  differed  from  a  madman  only  in  the  shorter 
time  which  his  passion'  endured.  He  thought  that  they 
who  enjoyed  their  fortunes  decently  and  moderately,  were 
far  from  being  envied;  For  men  do  not  envy  us,  said  he, 
but  our  estates.  He  said,  they  that  were  serious  in  ridicu¬ 
lous  matters  would  be  ridiculous  in  serious  affairs.  Hon¬ 
orable  actions  ought  to  succeed  honorable  sayings  ;  Lest, 
said  he,  they  lose  their  reputation.  He  blamed  the  people 
for  always  choosing  the  same  men  officers  ;  For  either  you 
think,  said  he,  the  government  little  worth,  or  very  few  fit 
to  goyern.  He  pretended  to  wonder  at  pne  that  sold  an 
estate  by  the  seaside,  as  if  he  were  more  powerful  than 
the  sea;  for  he  had  drunk  up  that  which  the  sea  could 
hardly  drown.  When  he  stood  for  the  consulship,  and  saw 
others  begging  and  flattering  the  people  for  votes,  he 
cried  out  aloud :  The  people  have  need  of  a  sharp  phy¬ 
sician  and  a  great  purge ;  therefore  not  the  mildest  but 
the  most  inexorable  person  is  to  be  chosen.  For  which 
word  he  was  chosen  before  all  others.  Encouraging  young 
men  to  fight  boldly,  he  oftentimes  said,  The  speech  and 
voice  terrify  and  put  to  flight  the  enemy  more  than  the 
hand  and  sword.  As  he  warred  against  Baetica,  he  was 
outnumbered  by  the  enemy,  and  in  danger.  The  Celtibe- 
rians  offered  for  two  hundred  talents  to  send  him  a  supply, 
and  the  Bomans  would  not  suffer  him  to  engage  to  pay  wa¬ 
ges  to  barbarians.  You  are  out,  said  he  ;  for  if  we  overcome, 


534 


AND  GKEAT  COMMANDERS. 


not  we  but  the  enemy  must  pay  them ;  if  we  are  routed, 
there  will  be  nobody  to  demand  nor  to  pay  either.  Hav¬ 
ing  taken  more  cities,  as  he  saith,  than  he  stayed  days  in 
the  enemies’  country,  he  reserved  no  more  of  the  prey  for 
himself  than  what  he  ate  or  drank.  He  distributed  to 
every  soldier  a  round  of  silver,  saying.  It  was  better  many 
should  return  out  of  the  campaign  with  silver  than  a  few 
with  gold ;  for  governors  ought  to  gain  nothing  by  their 
governments  but  honor.  Five  servants  Avaited  on  him  in 
the  army,  whereof  one  had  bought  three  prisoners ;  and 
, understanding  Cato  knew  it,  before  he  came  into  his  pres¬ 
ence  he  hanged  himself.  Being  requested  by  Scipio  xlfrica- 
nus  to  befriend  the  banished  Achaeans,  that  they  might 
return  to  their  own  country,  he  made  as  if  he  Avould  not  be 
concerned  in  that  business  ;  but  when  the  matter  was  dis¬ 
puted  in  the  senate,  rising  up,  he  said :  We  sit  here,  as 
if  we  had  nothing  else  to  do  but  to  argue  about  a  feAV  old 
Grecians,  whether  they  shall  be  carried  to  their  graves  by 
our  bearers  or  by  those  of  their  own  country.  Posthu¬ 
mus  Albinus  Avrote  a  history  in  Greek,  and  in  it  begs  the 
pardon  of  his  readers.  Said  Cato,  jeering  him.  If  the  Am- 
phictyonic  Council  commanded  him  to  Avrite  it,  he  ought  to 
be  pardoned. 

Scipio  Junior.  It  is  reported  that  Scipio  Junior  never 
bought  nor  sold  nor  built  any  thing  for  the  space  of  fifty- 
four  years,  and  so  long  as  he  lived ;  and  that  of  so  great 
an  estate,  he  left  but  thirty-three  pounds  of  sih^er,  and  two 
of  gold  behind  him,  although  he  Avas  lord  of  Carthage, 
and  enriched  his  soldiers  more  than  other  generals.  He 
observed  the  precept  of  Polybius,  and  endeavored  neA^er  to 
return  from  the  forum,  until  by  some  means  or  other  he 
had  engaged  some  one  he  lighted  on  to  be  his  friend  or  com¬ 
panion.  While  he  Avas  yet  young,  he  had  such  a  repute 
for  valor  and  knoAvledge,  that  Cato  the  Elder,  being  asked 
his  opinion  of  the  commanders  in  Africa,  of  Avhorn  Scipio 
was  one,  ansAvered  in  that  Greek  verse,  — 


THE  APOPHTHEGMS  OF  KINGS 


535 


Others  like  shadows  fly ; 

He  only  is  wise.* 

When  he  came  from  the  army  to  Eome,  the  people  pre¬ 
ferred  him,  not  to  gratify  him,  but  because  they  hoped  by 
his  assistance  to  conquer  Carthage  with  more  ease  and 
speed.  After  he  was  entered  the  walls,  the  Carthaginians 
defended  themselves  in  the  castle,  separated  by  the  sea, 
not  very  deep.  Polybius  advised  him  to  scatter  caltrops 
in  the  water,  or  planks  with  iron  spikes,  that  the  enemy 
might  not  pass  over  to  assault  their  bulwark.  He  an¬ 
swered,  that  it^\^as  ridiculous  for  those  who  had  taken 
the  walls  and  were  within  the  city  to  contrive  how  they 
might  not  fight  with  the  enemy.  He  found  the  city  full  of 
Greek  statues  and  presents  brought  thither  from  Sicily,  and 
made  proclamation  that  such  as  were  present  from  those 
cities  might  claim  and  carry  away  what  belonged  to  them. 
When  others  plundered  and  carried  away  the  spoil,  he 
would  not  suffer  any  that  belonged  to  him,  either  slave 
or  freeman,  to  take,  nor  so  much  as  to  buy  any  of  it.  He 
assisted  C.  Laelius,  his  most  beloved  friend,  when  he  stood 
to  be  consul,  and  asked  Pompey  (who  was  thought  to  be  a 
piper’s  son)  whether  he  stood  or  not.  He  replied.  No ; 
and  besides  promised  to  join  with  them  in  going  about  and 
procuring  votes,  which  they  believed  and  expected,  but 
were  deceived  ;  for  news  was  brought  that  Pompey  was 
in  the  forum,  fawning  on  and  soliciting  the  citizens  for 
himself;  whereat  others  being  enraged,  Scipio  laughed. 
We  may  thank  our  own  folly  for  this,  said  he,  that,  as  if  we 
were  not  to  request  men  but  the  Gods,  we  lose  our  time 
in  waiting  for  a  piper.  When  he  stood  to  be  censor,  Ap- 
pius  Claudius,  his  rival,  told  him  that  he  could  salute  all 
the  Romans  by  their  names,  whereas  Scipio  scarce  knew  any 
of  them.  You  say  true,  said  he,  for  it  hath  been  my  care 
not  to  know  many,  but  that  all  might  know  me.  He  ad- 


*  See  Odyss.  X.  495. 


536 


AND  GREAT  COMIVIANDERS. 


vised  the  city,  which  then  had  an  army  in  Celtiberia,  to 
send  them  both  to  the  army,  either  as  tribunes  or  lieuten¬ 
ants,  that  thus  the  soldiers  might  be  witnesses  and  judges 
of  the  valor  of  each  of  them.  When  he  was  made  censor, 
he  took  away  his  horse  from  a  young  man,  who,  in  the 
time  while  Carthage  was  besieged,  made  a  costly  supper, 
in  which  was  a  honey-cake,  made  after  the  shape  of  that 
city,  Avhich  he  named  Carthage  and  set  before  his  guests 
to  be  plundered  by  them ;  and  when  the  young  man  asked 
the  reason  why  he  took  his  horse  from  him,  he  said,  Be¬ 
cause  you  plundered  Carthage  before  me?  As  he  saw  C. 
Licinius  coming  towards  him,  I  know,  said  he,  that  man  is 
perjured;  but  since  nobody  accuses  him,  I  cannot  be  his 
accuser  and  judge  too.  The  senate  sent  him  thrice,  as 
Clitomachus  saith,  to  take  cognizance  of  men,  cities,  and 
manners,  as  an  overseer  of  cities,  kings,  and  countries. 
As  he  came  to  Alexandria  and  landed,  he  went  with  his 
head  covered,  and  the  Alexandrians  running  about  him  en¬ 
treated  he  would  gratify  them  by  uncovering  and  showing 
them  his  desirable  face.  When  he  uncovered  his  head, 
they  clapped  their  hands  with  a  loud  acclamation.  The 
king,  by  reason  of  his  laziness  and  corpulency,  making  a 
hard  shift  to  keep  pace  with  them,  Scipio  whispered  softly 
to  Panaetius :  The  Alexandrians  have  already  received 
some  benefit  of  our  visit,  for  upon  our  account  they  have 
seen  their  king  walk.  There  travelled  with  him  one 
friend,  Panaetius  the  philosopher,  and  five  servants,  whereof 
one  dying  in  the  journey,  he  would  not  buy  another,  but 
sent  for  one  To  Pome.  The  Numantines  seemed  invinci¬ 
ble,  and  having  overcome  several  generals,  the  people  the 
second  time  chose  Scipio  general  in  that  war.  When 
great  numbers  strived  to  list  them  in  his  army,  even  that 
the  senate  forbade,  as  if  Italy  thereby  would  be  left  desti¬ 
tute.  Nor  did  they  allow  him  money  that  was  in  bank,  but 
ordered  him  to  receive  the  revenues  of  tributes  that  were 


THE  APOPHTHEGMS  OF  KINGS 


537 


not  yet  payable.  As  to  money,  Scipio  said  he  wanted  none, 
for  of  his  own  and  by  his  friends  he  could  be  supplied ; 
but  of  the  decree  concerning  the  soldiers  he  complained, 
for  the  war  (he  said)  was  a  hard  and  dithcult  one,  whether 
their  defeat  had  been  caused  by  the  valor  of  the  enemy  or 
by  the  cowardice  of  their  own  men.  When  he  came  to 
the  army,  he  found  there  much  disorder,  intemperance, 
superstition,  and  luxury.  Immediately  he  drove  away  the 
soothsayers,  priests,  and  panders.  He  ordered  them  to 
send  away  their  household  stuff,  all  except  kettles,  a  spit, 
and  an  earthen  cup.  He  allowed  a  silver  cup,  weighing 
not  more  than  two  pounds,  to  such  as  desired  it.  He  for¬ 
bade  them  to  bathe ;  and  those  that  anointed  themselves 
were  to  rub  themselves  too  ;  for  horses  wanted  another  to 
rub  them,  he  said,  only  because  they  had  no  hand  of  their 
own.  Ide  ordered  them  to  eat  their  dinner  standing,  and 
to  have  only  such  food  as  was  dressed  without  fire  ;  but 
they  might  sit  down  at  supper,  to  bread,  plain  porridge,  and 
flesh  boiled  or  roasted.  He  himself  walked  about  clothed 
in  a  black  cassock,  saying,  he  mourned  for  the  disgrace 
of  the  army.  He  met  by  chance  with  the  pack-horses  of 
INIemmius,  a  tribune  that  carried  wine-coolers  set  with 
precious  stones,  and  the  best  Corinthian  vessels.  Since 
you  are  such  a  one,  said  he,  you  have  made  yourself  use¬ 
less  to  me  and  to  your  country  for  thirty  days,  but  to  your¬ 
self  all  your  life  long.  Another  showed  him  a  shield  well 
adorned.  The  shield,  said  he,  young  man,  is  a  fine  one, 
but  it  becomes  a  Roman  to  have  his  confidence  placed 
rather  in  his  right  hand  than  in  his  left.  To  one  that  was 
building  the  rampart,  saying  his  burthen  was  very  heavy, 
And  deservedly,  said  he,  for  you  trust  more  to  this  wood 
than  to  your  sword.  When  he  saw  the  rash  confidence  of 
the  enemy,  he  said  that  he  bought  security  with  time  ;  for 
a  good  general,  like  a  good  physician,  useth  iron  as  his  last 
remedy.  And  yet  he  fought  when  he  saw  it  convenient, 


538 


AND  GREAT  COMxMANDERS. 


and  routed  tlie  enemy.  When  they  were  worsted,  the  elder 
men  chid  them,  and  asked  why  they  fled  from  those  they 
had  pursued  so  often.  It  is  said  a  Numantine  answered. 
The  sheep  are  the  same  still,  but  they  have  another  shep¬ 
herd.  After  he  had  taken  Numantia  and  triumphed  a 
second  time,  he  had  a  controversy  with  C.  Gracchus  con¬ 
cerning  the  senate  and  the  allies  ;  and  the  abusive  people 
made  a  tumult  about  him  as  he  spake  from  the  pulpit ; 
The  outcry  of  the  army,  said  he,  when  they  charge,  never 
disturbed  me,  much  less  the  clamor  of  a  rabble  of  new¬ 
comers,  to  whom  Italy  is  a  step-mother  (I  am  well  assured) 
and  not  a  mother.  And  when  they  of  Gracchus’s  party 
cried  out.  Kill  the  Tyrant,  —  No  wonder,  said  he,  that  they 
who  make  Avar  upon  their  country  Avould  kill  me  first ;  for 
Home  cannot  fall  \Adiile  Scipio  stands,  nor  can  Scipio  live 
AA'hen  Home  is  fallen. 

Caecilius  Metellus.  Caecilius  Metellus  desi^nino^  to 
reduce  a  strong  fort,  a  captain  told  him  he  Avould  under¬ 
take  to  take  it  Avith  the  loss  only  of  ten  men ;  and  he 
asked  him,  Avhether  he  himself  Avould  be  one  of  those  ten. 
A  young  colonel  asked  him  Avhat  design  he  had  in  the 
Avheel.  If  I  thought  my  shirt  kbeAV,  said  he,  I  Avould 
pluck  it  off  and  burn  it.  He  Avas  at  variance  with  Scipio 
in  his  lifetime,  but  he  lamented  at  his  death,  and  commanded 
his  sons  to  assist  at  the  hearse  ;  and  said,  he  gave  the  Gods 
thanks  in  the  behalf  of  Eome,  that  Scipio  Avas  born  in  no 
other  country. 

C.  Marius.  C.  Marius  Avas  of  obscure  parentage,  pur¬ 
suing  offices  by  his  valor.  He  pretended  to  the  chief 
aedileship,  and  perceiving  he  could  not  reach  it,  the  same 
day  he  stood  for  the  lesser,  and  missing  of  that  also,  yet 
for  all  that  he  did  not  despair  of  being  consul.  IlaAdng  a 
Aven  on  each  leg,  he  suffered  one  to  be  cut,  and  endured 
the  surgeon  AAdthout  binding,  not  so  much  as  sighing  or 
once  contracting  his  eyebroAvs ;  but  Avhen  the  surgeon 


THE  APOPHTHEGMS  OF  KINGS 


539 


would  cut  the  other,  he  did  not  suffer  him,  saying  the  cure 
was  not  worth  the  pain.  In  his  second  consulship,  Lucius 
his  sister’s  son  offered  unchaste  force  to  Trebonius,  a  sol¬ 
dier,  who  slew  him  ;  when  many  pleaded  against  him,  he 
did  not  deny  but  confessed  he  killed  the  colonel,  and  told 
the  reason  why.  Hereupon  Marius  called  for  a  crown,  the  ^ 
reward  of  extraordinary  valor,  and  put  it  upon’Trebonius’s 
head.  Pie  had  pitched  his  camp,  when  he  fought  against 
the  Teutons,  in  a  place  where  water  was  wanting  ;  when 
the  soldiers  told  him  they  were  thirsty,  he  showed  them  a 
river  running  by  the  enemy’s  trench.  •  Look  you,  said  he, 
there  is  water  for  you,  to  be  bought  for  blood  ;  and  they 
desired  him  to  conduct  them  to  fight,  while  their  blood  was 
fluent  and  not  all  dried  up  with  thirst.  In  the  Cimbrian 
war,  he  gave  a  thousand  valiant  Camertines  the  freedom  of 
Rome,  which  no  law  did  allow ;  and  to  such  as  blamed 
him  for  it  he  said,  I  could  not  hear  the  laws  for  the  clash 
of  aiTOws.  In  the  civil  war,  he  lay  patiently  entrenched 
and  besieged,  waiting  for  a  fit  opportunity ;  when  Popedius 
Silon  called  to  him, Marius,  if  you  are  so  great  a  general  come 
down  and  fight.  And  do  you,  said  he,  if  you  are  so  great 
a  commander,  force  me  to  fight  against  my  will,  if  you  can. 

Lutatius  Catulus.  Lutatius  Catulus  in  the  Cimbrian 
war  lay  encamped  by  the  side  of  the  river  Athesis,  and  his 
soldiers,  seeing  the  barbarians  attempting  to  pass  the  river, 
gave  back ;  when  he  could  not  make  them  stand,  he 
hastened  to  the  front  of  them  that  fled,-  that  they  might 
not  seem  to  fly  from  their  enemies  but  to  follow  their  com¬ 
mander. 

Sylla.  Sylla,  surnamed  the  Fortunate,  reckoned  these 
two  things  as  the  chiefest  of  his  felicities,  —  the  friend¬ 
ship  of  Metellus  Pius,  and  that  he  had  spared  and  not 
destroved  the  city  of  Athens. 

C.  PoriLius.  C.  Popilius  was  sent  to  Antioch  us  with  a 
letter  from  the  senate,  commanding  him  to  withdraw  his 


640 


AND  GREAT  COMMANDERS. 


army-  out  of  Egypt,  and  to  renounce  the  protection  of  that 
kingdom  during  the  minority  of  Ptolemy’s  children.  When 
he  came  towards  him  in  his  camp,  Antiochus  kindly  saluted 
him  at  a  distance,  but  without  returning  his  salutation  he 
delivered  his  letter ;  which  being  read,  the  king  answered, 
^that  he  would  consider,  and  give  his  answer.  Whereupon 
Popilius  with  his  wand  made  a  circle  round  him,  saying.  Con¬ 
sider  and  answer  before  you  go  out  of  this  place  ;  and  when 
Antiochus  answered  that  he  would  give  the  Romans  satis¬ 
faction,  then  at  length  Popilius  saluted  and  embraced  him. 

Lucullus.  Lucullus  in  Armenia,  with  ten  thousand  foot  in 
armor  and  a  thousand  horse,  was  to  fight  Tigranes  and  his 
army  of  a  hundred  and  fifty  thousand,  the  day  before  the 
nones  of  October,  the  same  day  on  which  formerly  Scipio’s 
army  was  destroyed  by  the  Cimbrians.  When  one  told 
him,  The  Romans  dread  and  abominate  that  day;  Therefore, 
said  he,  let  us  fight  to-day  valiantly,  that  we  may  change 
this  day  from  a  black  and  unlucky  one  to  a  joyful  and 
festival  day  for  the  Romans.  Plis  soldiers  were  most  afraid 
of  their  men-at-arms  ;  but  he  bade  them  be  of  good  courage, 
for  it  was  more  labor  to  strip  than  to  overcome  them.  He 
first  came  up  to  their  counterscarp,  and  perceiving'  the 
confusion  of  the  barbarians,  cried  out.  Fellow-soldiers,  the 
day’s  our  own !  And  when  nobody  stood  him,*  he  pursued, 
and,  with  the  loss  of  five  Romans,  slew  above  a  hundred 
thousand  of  them. 

Cn.  Pompeius.  Cn.  Pompeius  was  as  much  beloved  by 
the  Romans  as  his  father  was  hated.  When  he  was  young, 
he  wholly  sided  with  Sylla,  and  before  he  had  borne  many 
offices  or  was  chosen  into  the  senate,  he  enlisted  many 
soldiers  in  Italy.  When  Sylla  sent  for  him,  he  returned 
answer,  that  he  would  not  muster  his  forces  in  the  presence 
of  his  general,  unfleshed  and  without  spoils  ;  nor  did  he 
come  before  that  in  several  fights  he  had  overcome  the 
captains  of  the  enemy.  He  was  sent  by  Sylla  lieutenant- 


Tim  AroniTIIEGMS  of  kings 


541 


general  into  Sicily,  and  being  told  that  the  soldiers  turned 
out  of  the  way  and  forced  and  plundered  the  country,  he 
sealed  the  swords  of  such  as  he  sent  abroad,  and  punished 
all  other  stragglers  and  wanderers.  He  had  resolved  to 
put  the  Mamertines,  that  were  of  the  other  side,  all  to  the 
sword  ;  but  Sthenius  the  orator  told  him.  He  would  do  in¬ 
justice  if  he  should  punish  many  that  were  innocent  for 
the  sake  of  one  that  was  guilty  ;  and  that  he  himself 
was  the  person  that  persuaded  his  friends  and  forced  his 
enemies  to  side  with  Marius.  Pompey  admired  the  man, 
and  said,  he  could  not  blame  the  Mamertines  for  being 
inveigled  by  a  person  who  preferred  his  country  beyond 
his  own  life  ;  and  forgave  both  the  city  and  Sthenius 
too.  When  he  passed  into  Africa  against  Domitius  and 
overcame  him  in  a  great  battle,  the  soldiers  saluted  him 
Imperator.  He  answered,  he  could  not  receive  that 
honor,  so  long  as  the  fortification  of  the  enemy’s  camp 
stood  undemolished  ;  upon  this,  although  it  rained  hard, 
they  rushed  on  and  plundered  the  camp.  At  his  re¬ 
turn,  among  other  courtesies  and  honors  wherewith  Sylla 
entertained  him,  he  styled  him  The  Great ;  yet  when  he 
was  desirous  to  triumph,  Sylla  Avould  not  consent,  because 
he  was  not  yet  chosen  into  the  senate.  But  when  Pompey 
said  to  those  that  were  about  him,  Sylla  doth  not  know 
that  more  worship  the  rising  than  the  setting  sun,  Sylla 
cried  aloud.  Let  him  triumph.  Hereat  Servilius,  one  of 
the  nobles,  was  displeased  ;  the  soldiers  also  wfithstood  his 
triumph,  until  he  had  bestowed  a  largess  among  them. 
But  when  Pompey  replied,  I  would  rather  forego  my 
triumph  than  flatter  them,  —  Now,  said  Servilius,  I  see 
Poinpey  is  truly  great  and  worthy  of  a  triumph.  It  was  a 
custom  in  R9me,  that  knights  who  had  served  in  the  Avars 
the  time  appointed  by  the  laws  should  bring  their  horse 
into  the  forum  before  the  censors,  and  there  give  an 
account  of  their  warfare  and  the  commanders  under  whom 


542 


AND  GREAT  COMMANDERS. 


they  had  served.  Pompey,  then  consul,  brought  also  his 
horse  before  the  censors,  Gellius  and  Lentulus ;  and  when 
they  asked  him,,  as  the  manner  is,  whether  he  had  served 
all  his  campaigns.  All,  said  he,  and  under  myself  as 
general.  Having  gotten  into  his  hands  the  writings  of 
Sertorius  in  Spain,  among  which  were  letters  from 
several  leading  men  in  Home,  inviting  Sertorius  to  Home 
to  innovate  and  change  the  government,  he  burnt  them 
all,  by  that  means  giving  opportunity  to  ill-affected  per¬ 
sons  to  repent  and  mend  their  manners.  Phraates,  king 
of  Parthia,  sent  to  him  requesting  that  the  river  Euphrates 
might  be  his  bounds.  He  answered,  the  Homans  had 
rather  the  right  should  be  their  bounds  towards  Parthia. 
L.  Lucullus,  after  he  left  the  army,  gave  himself  up  to 
pleasure  and  luxury,  jeering  at  Pompey  for  busying  himself 
in  affairs  unsuitable  to  his  age.  He  answered,  that  govern¬ 
ment  became  old  age  better  than  luxury.  In  a  fit  of  sick¬ 
ness,  his  physician  pr,escribed  him  to  eat  a  thrush ;  but 
when  none  could  be  gotten,  because  they  were  out  of 
season,  one  said,  that  Lucullus  had  some,  for  he  kept  them 
all  the  year.  It  seems  then,  said  he,  Pompey  must  not  live, 
unless  Lucullus  play  the  glutton  ;  and  dismissing  the  phy¬ 
sician,  he  ate  such  things  as  were  easy  to  be  gotten.  In  a 
great  dearth  at  Home,  he  was  chosen  by  title  overseer  of 
the  market,  but  in  reality  lord  of  sea  and  land,  and  sailed 
to  Africa,  Sardinia,  and  Sicily.  Having  procured  great 
quantities  of  wheat,  he  hastened  back  to  Home ;  and  when 
by  reason  of  a  great  tempest  the  pilots  were  loath  to  hoist 
sail,  he  went  first  aboard  himself,  and  commanding  the 
anchor  to  be  weighed,  cried  out  aloud.  There  is  a  necessity 
of  sailing,  but  there  is  no  necessity  of  4iving.  When  the 
difference  betwixt  him  and  Caesar  broke  out,, and  Marcel- 
linus,  one  of  those  whom  he  had  preferred,  revolted  to 
Caesar  and  inveighed  much  against  Pompey  in  the  senate ; 
Art  thou  not  ashamed,  said  he,  Marcellinus,  to  reproach 


THE  APOPHTHEGMS  OF  KINGS 


543 


me,  who  taught  you  to  speak  when  you  were  dumb,  and 
fed  you  full  even  to  vomiting  when  you  were  starved  ]  To 
Cato,  who  severely  blamed  him  because,  when  he  had 
often -informed  him  of  the  growing  power  of  Caesar,  such 
as  was  dangerous  to  a  democracy,  he  took  little  notice  of 
it,  he  answered.  Your  counsels  were  more  presaging,  but 
mine  more  friendly.  Concerning  himself  he  freely  pro¬ 
fessed,  that  he  entered  all  his  offices  sooner  than  he  ex¬ 
pected,  and  resigned  them  sooner  than  was  expected  by 
others.  After  the  fight  at  Pharsalia,  in  his  flight  towards 
Egypt,  as  he  was  going  out  of  the  ship  into  the  fisher-boat 
the  king  sent  to  attend  him,  turning  to  his  wife  and  son,  he 
said  nothing  to  them  beside  those  two  verses  of  Sophocles : 

Whoever  comes  within  a  tyrant’s  door 

Becomes  his  slave,  though  he  were  free  before. 

As  he  came  out  of  the  boat,  when  he  was  struck  with  a 
sword,  he  said  nothing ;  but  gave  one  groan,  and  covering 
his  head  submitted  to  the  murderers. 

Cicero.  Cicero  the  orator,  when  his  name  was  played 
upon  and  his  friends  advised  him  to  change  it,  answered, 
that  he  would  make  the  name  of  Cicero  more  honorable 
than  the  name  of  the  Catos,  the  Catuli,  or  the  Scauri.  He 
dedicated  to  the  Gods  a  silver  cup  with  a  cover,  with  the 
first  letters  of  his  other  names,  and  instead  of  Cicero  a 
chick-pea  [cicer)  engraven.  Loud  bawling  orators,  he 
said,  were  driven  by  their  weakness  to  noise,  as  lame  men 
to  take  horse.  Verres  had  a  son  that  in  his  youth  had  not 
well  secured  his  chastity ;  yet  he  reviled  Cicero  for  his 
effeminacy,  and  called  him  catamite.  Do  you  not  know, 
said  he,  that  cfiildren  are  to  be  rebuked  at  home  within 
doors]  Metellus  Nepos  told  him  he  had  slain  more  by  his 
testimony  than  he  had  saved  by  his  pleadings.  You  say 
true,  said  he,  my  honesty  exceeds  my  eloquence.  When 
INIetellus  asked  him  who  his  father  was.  Your  mother,  said 
he,  hath  made  that  question  a  harder  one  for  you  to  answer 


544 


AND  GREAT  COMMANDERS. 


than  for  me.  For  she  was  unchaste,  while  Metellus  him¬ 
self  was  a  light,  inconstant,  and  passionate  man.  The 
same  Metellus,  when  Diodotus  his  master  in  rhetoric  died, 
caused  a  marble  croAV  to  be  placed  on  his  monument ;  and 
Cicero  said,  he  returned  his  master  a  very  suitable  gratu¬ 
ity,  who  had  taught  him  to  fly  but  not  to  declaim.  Hearing 
that  Vatinius,  his  enemy  and  otherwise  a  lewd  person,  was 
dead,  and  the  next  day  that  he  was  alive,  A  mischief  on 
him,  said  he,  for  lying.  To  one  that  seemed  to  be  an 
African,  who  said  he  could  not  hear  him  when  he  pleaded. 
And  yet,  said  he,  your  ears  are  of  full  bore.  He  had  sum¬ 
moned  Popilius  Cotta,  an  ignorant  blockhead  that  pretended 
to  the  law,  as  a  witness  in  a  cause  ;  and  when  he  told  the 
court  he  knew  nothing  of  the  business.  On  my  conscience, 
I’ll  warrant  you,  said  Cicero,  he  thinks  you  ask  him  a 
question  in  the  law.  Verres  sent  a  golden  sphinx  as  a 
present  to  Hortensius  the  orator,  who  told  Cicero,  when 
he  spoke  obscurely,  that  he  was  not  skilled  in  riddles. 
That’s  strange,  said  he,  since  you  have  a  sphinx  in  your 
house.  Meeting  Voconius  with  his  three  daughters  that 
were  hard  favored,  he  told  his  friends  softly  that  verse,  — 

Children  he  hath  got, 

Though  Apollo  favored  not. 

When  Faustus  the  son  of  Sylla,  being  very  much  in 
debt,  set  up  a  writing  that  he  would  sell  his  goods  by  auc¬ 
tion,  he  said,  I  like  this  proscription  better  than  his  father’s. 
When  Pompey  and  Caesar  fell  out,  he  said,  I  know  whom 
to  fiy  from,  but  I  know  not  whom  to  fly  to.  He  blamed 
Pompey  for  leaving  the  city,  and  for  imitating  Themistocles 
rather  than  Pericles,  when  his  affairs  did  not  resemble  the 
former’s  but  the  latter’s.  He  changed  his  mind  and  went 
over  to  Pompey,  who  asked  him  where  he  left  his  son-in- 
law  Piso.  He  answered,  AVith  your  father-in-law  Caesar. 
To  one  that  went  over  from  Caesar  to  Pompey,  saying  that 
in  his  haste  and  eagerness  he  had  left  his  horse  behind  him, 


THE  APOPHTHEGMS  OF  KINGS 


545 


he  said,  You  have  taken  better  care  of  your  horse  than  of 
yourself.  To  one  that  brought  news  that  the  friends  of 
Caesar  looked  sourly,  You  do  as  good  as  call  them,  said 
he,  Caesar’s  enemies.  After  the  battle  in  Pharsalia,  when 
Pompey  was  fled,  one  Nonius  said  they  had  seven  eagles 
left  still,  and  advised  to  try  what  they  would  do.  Your 
advice,  said  he,  were  good,  if  we  were  to  fight  with  jack¬ 
daws.  Caesar,  now  conqueror,  honorably  restored  the- 
statues  of  Pompey  that  were  thrown  down ;  whereupon 
Cicero  said,  that  Caesar  by  erecting  Pompey’s  statues  had 
secured  his  own.  He  set  so  high  a  value  on  oratory,  and 
did  so  lay  out  himself  especially  that  way,  that  having  a 
cause  to  plead  before  the  centum viri,  when  the  day  ap¬ 
proached  and  his  slave  Eros  brought  him  word  it  was 
deferred  until  the  day  following,  he  presently  made  him 
free. 

C.  Caesar.  Caius  Caesar,  when  he  was,  a  young  man, 
fled  from  Sylla,  and  fell  into  the  hands  of  pirates,  who  first 
demanded  of  him  a  sum  of  money ;  and  he  laughed  at  the 
rogues  for  not  understanding  his  quality,  and  promised 
them  twice  as  much  as  they  asked  him.  Afterwards,  when 
he  was  put  into  custody  until  he  raised  the  money,  he 
commanded  them  to  be  quiet  and  silent  while  he  slept. 
While  he  was  in  prison,  he  made  speeches  and  verses 
which  he  read  to  them,  and  when  they  commended  them 
but  coldly,  he  called  them  barbarians  and  blockheads,  and 
'  threatened  them  in  jest  that  he  would  hang  them.  But 
after  a  while  he  was  as  good  as  his  word ;  for  when  the  money 
•  for  his  ransom  was  brought  and  he  discharged,  he  gathered 
men  and  ships  out  of  Asia,  seized  the  pirates  and  crucified 
them.  At  Rome  he  stood  to  be  chief,  priest  against  Cafulus,  a 
man  of  great  interest  among  the  Romans.  To  his  mother, 
who  brought  him  to  the  gate,  he  said.  To-day,  mother,  you 
will  have  your  son  high  priest  or  banished.  He  divorced 
^  his  wife  Pompeia,  because  she  was  reported  to  be  over 


546 


AND  GREAT  COMMANDERS. 


familiar  with  Clodius  ;  yet  when  Clodius  was  brought  to 
trial  upon  that  account,  and  he  was  cited  as  a  witness,  he 
spake  no  evil  against  his  wife  ;  and  when  the  accuser  asked 
him.  Why  then  did  you  divorce  her  ?  —  Because,  said  he, 
Caesar’s  wife  ought  to  be  free  even  from  suspicion.  As 
he  was  reading  the  exploits  of  Alexander,  he  wept  and 
told  his  friends,  He  was  of  my  age  when  he  conquered 
Darius,  and  I  hitherto  have  done  nothing.  He  passed  by 
a  little  inconsiderable  town  in  the  Alps,  and  his  friends 
said,  they  wondered  whether  there  were  any  contentions 
and  tumults  for  offices  in  that  place.  He  stood,  and  after 
a  little  pause  answered,  I  had  rather  be  the  first  in  this 
•  town  than  second  in  Home.  He  said,  great  and  surprising 
enterprises  were  not  to  be  consulted  upon,  but  done.  And 
coming  against  Pompey  out  of  his  province  of  Gaul,  he 
passed  the  river  Pubicon,  saying.  Let  every  die  be  thrown. 
After  Pompey  -fied  to  sea  from  Pome,  he  went  to  take 
money  out  of  the  treasury :  when  Metelhis,  who  had  the 
charge  of  it,  forbade  him  and  shut  it  against  him,  he 
threatened  to  kill  him ;  whereupon  Metellus  being  aston¬ 
ished,  he  said  to  him.  This,  young  man,  is  harder  for  me  to 
say  than  to  do.  When  his  soldiers  were  having  a  tedious 
passage  from  Brundisium  to  Dyrrachium,  unknown  to  all 
he  went  aboard  a  small  vessel,  and  attempted  to  pass  the 
sea ;  and  when  the  vessel  was  in  danger  of  being  overset, 
he  discovers  himself  to  the  pilot,  crying  out.  Trust  Fortune, 
and  know  that  you  carry  Caesar.  But  the  tempest  being 
vehement,  his  soldiers  coming  about  him  and  expostulating 
passionately  with  him,  asking  whether  he  distrusted  them 
and  was  looking  for  another  army,  would  not  suffer  him  to 
pass  at  that  time.  They  fought,  and  Pompey  had  the  bet¬ 
ter  of  it ;  but  instead  of  following  his  blow  he  retreated  to 
his  camp.  To-day,  said  Caesar,  the  enemy  had  the  victory, 
but  none  of  them  know  how  to  conquer.  Pompey  com¬ 
manded  his  army  to  stand  in  array  at  Pharsalia  in  their 


THE  APOPHTHEGMS  OF  KINGS 


547 


place,  and  to  receive  the  charge  from  the  enemy.  In  this 
Caesar  said  he  was  out,  thereby  suffering  the  eagerness  of 
his  soldiers’  spirits,  when  they  were  up  and  inspired  Avith 
rasre  and  success,  in  the  midst  of  their  career  to  lano-uish 
and  expire.  After  he  routed  Pharnaces  Ponticus  at  the 
first  assault,  he  Avrote  thus  to  his  friends,  I  came,  I  saAV,  I 
conquered.*  After  Scipio  was  worsted  in  iVfrica  and  fled, 
and  Cato  had  killed  himself,  he  said :  I  envy  thee  thy  death, 
O  Cato  !  since  thou  didst  envy  me  the  honor  of  saving  thee. 
Antonins  and  Dolabella  Avere  suspected  by  his  friends,  Avho 
adAused  him  to  secure  them ;  he  ansAvered,  I  fear  none  of 
those  fat  and  lazy  felloAVS,  but  those  pale  and  lean  ones, — 
meaning  Brutus  and  Cassius.  As  he  was  at  supper,  the 
discourse  Avas  of  death,  Avhich  sort  was  the  best.  That, 
said  he,  Avhich  is  unexpected. 

Caesar  Augustets.  Caesar,  Avho  Avas  the  first  surnamed 
Augustus,  being  yet  young,  demanded  of  Antony  the  tAven- 
ty-five  millions  of  money  f  which  he  had  taken  out  of  the 
house  of  Julius  Caesar  Avhen  he  Avas  slain,  that  he  might 
pay  the  Homans  the  legacies  he  had  left  them,  every  man 
seventy-five  drachms.  But  when  Antony  detained  the 
money,  and  bade  him,  if  he  Avere  Avise,  let  fall  his  demand, 
he  sent  the  crier  to  offer  his  OAvn  paternal  estate  for  sale, 
and  there  Avith  discharged- the  legacies;  by  which  means 
he  procured  a  general  respect  to  himself,  and  to  Antony 
the  hatred  of  the  Homans.  Hymetalces,  king  of  Thrace, 
forsook  Antony  and  Avent  over  to  Caesar ;  but  bragging 
immoderately  in  his  drink,  and  nauseously  reproaching  his 
noAV  'confederates,  Caesar  drank  to  one  of  the  other 
kings,  and  told  him,  I  love  treason  but  do  not  commend 

*  ^HXdov,  eldov,  hUrjaa,  veni,  vidi,  vici. 

t  It  is  doubtful  what  amount  is  here  intended  by  Plutarch.  If  sesterces  are  un¬ 
derstood,  the  amount  is  much  less  than  it  is  commonly  stated  ;  and  even  if  we  un¬ 
derstand  drachmas  (or  denarii),  we  shall  still  fall  below  the  amount  commonly  given, 
which  is  700,000,000  sesterces  (or  about  $28,000,000).  See,  for  example,  Veil 
Paterc.  II.  60,  4  :  Sestertium  septiens  miliens.  (G.) 


I 


548  AND  GREAT  COMMANDERS. 

traitors.  The  Alexandrians,  when  he  had  taken  then’  city, 
expected  great  severity  from  him  ;  but  when  he  came  upon 
the  judgment-seat,  he  placed  Arius  the  Alexandrian  by 
him,  and  told  them :  I  spare  this  city,  first  because  it  is 
great  and  beautiful,  secondly  for  the  sake  of  its  founder, 
Alexander,  and  thirdly  for  the  sake  of  Arius  my  friend. 
When  it  was  told  him  that  Eros,  his  steward  in  Egypt, 
having  bought  a  quail  that  beat  all  he  came  near  and  was 
never  worsted  by  any,  had  roasted  and  eaten  it,  he  sent  for 
him ;  and  when  upon  examination  he  confessed  the  fact, 
he  ordered  him  to  be  nailed  on  the  mast  of  the  ship.  He 
removed  Theodorus,  and  in  his  stead  made  Arius  his  fac¬ 
tor  in  Sicily,  whereupon  a  petition  was  presented  to  him, 
in  which  was  written,  Theodorus  of  Tarsus  is  either  a  bald- 
pate  or  a  thief,  what  is  your  opinion  ]  Caesar  read  it,  and 
subscribed,  I  think  so.  Mecaenas,  his  intimate  companion, 
presented  him  yearly  on  his  birthday  with  a  piece  of  plate. 
Athenodorus  the  philosopher,  by  reason  of  his  old  age, 
begged  leave  that  he  might  retire  from  court,  which  Caesar 
granted ;  and  as  Athenodorus  was  taking  his  leave  of  him, 
Kemember,  said  he,  Caesar,  whenever  you  are  angry,  to 
say  or  do  nothing  before  you  have  repeated  the  four-and- 
twenty  letters  to  yourself.  Whereupon  Caesar  caught  him 
by  the  hand  and  said,  I  have  need  of  your  presence  still ; 
and  he  kept  him  a  year  longer,  saying.  The  reward  of 
silence  is  a  secure  reward.  He  heard  Alexander  at  the 
age  of  thirty-two  years  had  subdued  the  greatest  part  of 
the  world  and  was  at  ■  a  loss  what  he  should  do  with  the 
rest  of  his  time.  But  he  wondered  Alexander  should  not 
think  it  a  lesser  labor  to  gain  a  great  empire  than  to  set  in 
order  what  he  had  gotten.  He  made  a  law  concerning 
adulterers,  wherein  was  determined  how  the  accused  were 
to  be  tried  and  how  the  guilty  were  to  be  punished.  Af¬ 
terwards,  meeting  with  a  young  man  that  was  reported  to 
have  been  familiar  with  his  daughter  Julia,  being  enraged 


THE  APOPHTHEGMS  OF  KINGS. 


549 


he  struck  him  with  his  hands ;  but  when  the  young  man 
cried  out,  O  Caesar!  you  have  made  a  law,  he  was  so 
troubled  at  it  that  he  refrained  from  supper  that  day. 
When  he  sent  Cains  his  daughter’s  son  into  Armenia,  he 
begged  of  the  Gods  that  the  favor  of  Pompey,  the  valor 
of  Alexander,  and  his  own  fortune  might  attend  him. 
He  told  the  Romans  he  would  leave  them  one  to  succeed 
him  in  the  government  that  never  consulted  twice  in  the 
same  atfair,  meaning  Tiberius.  He  endeavored  to  pacify 
some  young  men  that  were  imperious  in  their  offices ;  and 
when  they  gave  little  heed  to  him,  but  still  kept  a  stir. 
Young  men,  said  he,  hear  an  old  man  to  whom  old  men 
hearkened  when  he  was  young.  Once,  when  the  Athenians 
had  offended  him,  he  wrote  to  them  from  Aegina :  I  suppose 
you  know  I  am  angry  with  you,  otherwise  I  had  not  win¬ 
tered  at  Aegina.  Besides  this,  he  neither  said  nor  did  any 
thing  to  them.  One  of  the  accusers  of  Eurycles  prated 
lavishly  and  unreasonably,  proceeding  so  far  as  to  say.  If 
these  crimes,  O  Caesar,  do  not  seem  great  to  you,  command 
him  to  repeat  to  me  the  seventh  book  of  Thucydides ; 
wherefore  Caesar  being  enraged  commanded  him  to  prison. 
But  afterwards,  when  he  heard  he  was  descended  from 
Brasidas,  he  sent  for  him  again,  and  dismissed  him  with  a 
moderate  rebuke.  When*Piso  built  his  house  from  top  to 
bottom  with  great  exactness.  You  cheer  my  heart,  said  he, 
who  build  as  if  Rome  would  be  eternal. 


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